#once i started a school year with a zero in a class which was . not great. but by the end of the grading period i had a 92 ...

[genderqueer-karma]

i hate school actually (it's my fault)

[violenteconomics]

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[divine-knight-hand]

The End of an Era

Regina George Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Pairing: (Reneé Rapp's) Regina George x Female Reader

Summary: After the iconic Christmas dance fiasco, one of Regina's long-time admirers decides to make sure she's okay.

Content Warnings: Mentions of being a pervert, but fluffiness from there, brief mentions of weight change and dieting, a poetry reference, a bit of toxic behavior (and verbal degradation) but Regina is a queen and I'm wearing rose-colored glasses, nothing spicier than kissing, but their is some dubious consent (but the want is mutual!)

Notes: Christmas dance scene moment!!! I just recently saw the new Mean Girls and Regina George was all that was on my mind since. So, I quickly wrote this up. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1,624

Dividers by @anitalenia

I’m no better than a man… I thought as I ogled Regina while she danced onstage.

Most of the student body didn’t care for the plastics’ “Rockin’ Around the Pole” routine, but I made sure I had the best view of it every year. I already knew before this year’s performance that it would be a little different. I recognized the group’s newest member, Cady Heron, from homeroom. Regina quickly took an interest in her when she first transferred in, and she became the newest member of the plastics.

I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. What did it feel like to have Regina look at you in fascination? What did it feel like to be taken under her wing? How many times did Cady hang out with her? How many times did Cady go to Regina’s house?

The clapping of the girls’ leather boots made me jump, and my eyes zeroed back in on Regina. No, I didn’t actually care for the performance itself, but from freshman year, when I first saw Regina in the same tight-fitting crop top, short skirt, long gloves, and thigh-high boots, I was awe-struck. Since then, I’d taken to watching her from afar, which was easy to do, since she always made her presence known when she entered a room. With each passing day, I grew more and more enamored with her.

I found myself instinctively leaning in once the girls set up one of the grandest moves in their performance. Karen took to the bottom as Gretchen guided Regina into a handstand on her knees from behind. I willed my eyes down to Regina’s face once she made it into position.

Though I spent the performance letting my eyes travel along her body–looking at her thighs in the space between her skirt and boots, her exposed sliver of midriff under her crop top, and watching the way her beach blonde waves fell to frame her gorgeous breasts–I would not be perverted enough to hone in on her crotch as her skirt flipped. My mind might already be in the gutter, but I’d still have a little class.

I’d noticed that her clothes seemed to be fitting her a little tighter than normal this year. There were rumors floating around that Regina was gaining weight, but I also heard that she was on some health kick with special weight loss bars, so that couldn’t have been possible. It had to have just been in my head.

Or so I thought.

Suddenly, Karen’s legs began to shake, and as Regina lost her balance, Gretchen lost her grip, sending the three of them tumbling to the ground in front of a surprised Cady. The audience let out a unanimous gasp as Regina hit the floor face-first. Oh, shit!

It didn’t take long for all the cameras to start flashing, and the look on Regina’s face told me she knew that her life as the untouchable leader of the plastics was quickly coming to a close.

I figured that famous poet who said the world doesn’t end “with a bang but a whimper” clearly didn’t consider the fact that a teenage girl’s world could get explosive in an instant, without a single warning. I’m sure they’d change their mind once they met Regina George.

The curtains began to close, but not before I saw Regina take to her feet and speed backstage. I felt terrible for her. Was she one of the meanest people in the school? Yes. But, I was also in love with her- I mean- a firm believer that nobody deserved that level of humiliation. Not even mean girls. So, out of a sense of heartache and longing to comfort her, I did what any normal and not creepy person would do. I jumped out of my seat and went after her.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I couldn’t actually follow Regina backstage, since I wasn’t in the talent show, so I ducked into the bathroom closest to the auditorium. As soon as I opened the door, I saw her, and my heart leapt into my throat.

She slammed her fists down on the sink in front of her, letting out an angry growl.

I gently closed the door behind me, not wanting to alert her yet, but my shoe audibly squeaked against the floor, and Regina’s head snapped in my direction.

I gasped once I saw her. It was an instant, and she quickly turned away, but after she made mascara tears a school-wide trend, it was hard not to notice when they were on her face.

“Get out.” She spat, still facing the other way.

“I- I wanted to see if you were okay.” I stammered.

“I didn’t say to start spewing mushy shit,” She insisted in that same cold tone. “I said to get the hell out.” When I didn’t immediately move, she roared. “NOW!”

I reeled backwards in surprise when she got loud, feeling an instant sense of guilt. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I’ll go.” I turned to grab the door handle, but paused when I heard her sniffle again. “You know, I come to see your performance every year.”

“Yeah, everyone does, because I’m amazing.” I turned my head to see Regina impatiently drumming her fingers on the sink, gloves long abandoned. “What, did you think you were different?”

“No,” I admitted. “I know that nothing I do really sets me apart from anyone else in this hellhole.” She snorted at my remark, and I dared to slowly approach her. “So, yeah, I’m just like everyone else. I came to see your dance. I follow all the trends you set. I turn my head whenever you walk into a room. Hell, whenever you turn up, you’re all I can see.”

She snapped her head back to me, her face set in a stoic expression. “Are you mocking me right now?”

“No, no!” I stopped my advancements, waving my hands to emphasize. “I would never!” I moved my hands to my pockets, eyes drifting down to my shoes. “If anything, I was mocking myself. I’m just like any other nobody in North Shore. I honestly wouldn’t expect you to recognize me. Sorry for bothering you.” I bit my lip in shame, debating whether or not I should leave.

A beat of silence passed before I made up my mind to go, but before I had the chance, Regina spoke up. “You’re Y/N L/N.”

My jaw dropped.

“Ew.” Regina closed the gap between us, coaxing my mouth closed with a hand under my chin. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” I muttered, heat creeping into my cheeks. She touched me! She actually touched me!

“I do know you.” Regina went on. “It’s a bit hard not to notice when someone’s practically stalking you.”

My cheeks burned with humiliation. “I… I…”

A faint smile stirred at her painted red lips. “Especially when they’re as cute as you are.”

What? “What?”

“Ugh, get your ears cleaned.” She rolled her eyes. “I said I think you’re cute. Do you honestly think I’d let you creep on me if you weren’t?”

I scratched the back of my neck. “Sorry about that…”

“Don’t be.” Regina moved my hand before wrapping her arms around my neck. “I liked your eyes on me.” She pressed her body against mine, and I hoped she couldn’t feel my heart fluttering. “Everyone watches me, of course, but you’re the only one I like watching me.”

“Regina…” I breathed.

“Oh. My. God.” Regina scoffed. “Stop being such a prude and wrap your arms around me. What are you, a nun?”

“S- sorry…” I muttered, moving my hands from their tense position at my sides to hold her. I felt electricity under my fingers once they made contact with the skin of her midriff.

“That’s… better.” Regina ran her tongue over her teeth, like a hungry shark eying its prey. “I don’t wanna kiss you without your hands on me.”

WHAT?! “Wha-” She cut me off by pulling me into the promised kiss.

She rolled her body against mine, and I sighed, my eyes fluttering shut as I let her tongue into my mouth. Her hands clawed against my back as she tried to pull me closer.

She pulled away, only to keep kissing my face. She kissed all over my cheeks before trailing her kisses along my neck to the collar of my shirt. I shivered as one of her hands pulled at my shirt, and I felt her lips against the sweet spot in my neck.

“Regina…” I breathlessly sighed. “I adore you…”

“I know~” I felt her mouth spread into a grin against my mouth.

Then, all too soon, she pulled away from me, fixing her hair as she looked me up and down.

“You came to ask me if I was okay, right?” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Y- yeah,” I stuttered, still in shock from our kiss.

“Well, I’m better now~” She winked. “So, thanks for that.”

Before I could even formulate an idea on what I could possibly say next, she was out the bathroom door.

What just happened? I wondered just before my reflection caught my eye. I was covered in blotches of red lipstick. It was scattered on my cheeks, coloring my neck, and smudged across my lips.

I gingerly reached a hand up to admire myself. I was all marked up. I was Regina’s.

After tonight, we knew Regina might not have been queen of the plastics anymore, but I hoped that she left the room with the understanding that she would always be a queen to me. Her world didn’t end with a bang or a whimper. It ended with a kiss.

[eanul-rmbl]

mission unkillable (floyd leech)

UNFINISHED!!! feel free to take this story and add to it. I'm not going to complete it.

wc. 5.8k

In which the kid Floyd killed in first grade just keeps coming back.

Floyd remembers one of his first kills like it was yesterday. It wasn’t the first time he’d beaten someone fair and square, nor was it the first time he ripped someone to shreds, like wet paper under water. But it was the first time, and only time, he saw someone in their last moments, smiling softly and fondly at him.

It died smiling at him in the dead of night, with only his glowing eye to guide her line of sight. Its fragile body was fading, fizzing away into water, and fast. For a merchild comprising of roughly 95 percent water, this was not nearly fast enough; for it smiled at him gently, like comforting a child. Its sleepy eyes said, “‘it’s not your fault,’ and its soft expression spoke, ‘I forgive you.’

At first, he felt upset. It had no right to see him in the dark, to smile at him like that. It had no right to do anything except die, after such a humiliating loss against him.

Then, he felt something else, something weird, something rare, and something wrong. As he watched it fizz into water, its eyes soft and at peace, some empty feeling flickered in his bosom for just a moment. It felt like that pure snow that he would read about; white and uncontaminated and untouched. Then it was marred with that dark, sticky, pungent oil he was oh so fond of. Floyd wanted to throw it up. To claw out whatever disgusting emotion washed over him from his throat and rip it to shreds, like he’d ripped you apart just moments ago.

Then, like you, the feeling was gone, and he promptly swam back to Jade and the others.

One to zero, for Floyd Leech.

Children often go missing in the Coral Sea; you hardly ever see them more than once, and Floyd remembered that merchild’s death like it was yesterday.

That’s why it was so weird to see that exact merchild in human form, with a fire cat, walking around the school grounds of Night Raven College. 

— 

The subject had ghostly hair. They were daydreaming half the day, and unaware the other half. They were about as tall as him, but the height was no threat when their posture and stance gave no hint to them knowing any bit of self defense. Their skin was pale, not fair, but sickly and almost dead-looking. Floyd could have sworn that at one point he could faintly see teeth right through their cheek.

They shared no classes despite her age, them being a first-year, but they shared the hallway often. Subject’s relaxed shoulders and their loose grip on the baby seal showed that they don’t perceive him to be a threat, or that they know he’s not even one to begin with, and that just wasn’t right. 

Floyd frowned.

“...He’s starting again, you know…” Grim whispered tensely, gripping tightly on your cushiony blue mariner’s hat.

“Ahh, really?” You said lightheartedly, almost giggling. All without a care in the world, like you barely even knew Floyd even existed. Everything must have been all rainbows and daisies and something in your head, though he didn’t know what. His frown grew.

“It’s seriously disturbing, ya know!” Grim pestered, to which you laughed quietly, ghostly. “How am I supposed to feel about my henchman probably dying within the next week!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Grim,” you smiled all eerily, as if you weren’t afraid of dying. It ticked off Floyd. “He just might be targeting you.”

Quickly, you poked Grim playfully on the nose, laughing airily as he stammered and threatened to rip up your blue mariner’s cap. 

“Besides, I don’t think he’s much of a threat.”

“Tch.” Floyd turned sharply and stomped off, kicking the wall harshly before going over to who knows where.

—

It was fitting that you lived in the mess that was Ramshackle dorm. For a place haunted with ghosts, you’d fit right in. You were tall, but your footsteps were light, almost as if you were floating. You were airheaded, but managed to skip past every confrontation he threw your way as if you were skipping across a game of hopscotch.

Most of all, your eyes were always closed. The eyes were said to be the windows to the soul, so either you were hiding your soul from the world, or you hadn’t one to begin with.

Sometimes Floyd would hear a ghostly echo of laughter in the middle of the night. His sleeping eye would fly open. He’d notice how Jade on his own bed stirred the slightest bit, signaling that Floyd woke him up by accident, he’d glance at the door, note the lack of windows, feel a quick shiver and a gust of cold air from nowhere, and yawn before going back to sleep. On those nights, he’d almost always dream of that little merchild fading away faster than the sand through his fingers.

Floyd kept following you for the next few days before concluding that you were not a threat, and neither was the baby seal. Azul could likely take the Ramshackle dorm from you right after testing season, and probably swindle his way into snagging you as another one of those nameless Mostro Lounge workers, should he feel like it. Azul would already be swimming in workers by then, though. First year little schoolfish, all brought there through their own humiliating defeat.

The plan was great, flawless, and neither Floyd and Jade could wait for all the fun that would happen once the plan was in way. Sew a little doubt here, plant a quick and easy solution there. Good stuff.

—

Their name, as it turned out, wasn’t jellyfish, or polyp, or medusa; it was something else entirely. Weird.

“Heya, Shrimpy,” he called all happy-like and juvenile as he practically skipped over to them. It felt wrong to call you Shrimpy. In fact, it felt wrong to call you anything at all, other than your own name. This was frustrating–you didn’t have that right–so he locked you in a tight squeeze upon reaching them. “Gotcha,” he said.

It was odd, though, how you didn’t flinch with the gradual increase of pressure, how you didn’t shiver or cower in fear. You just stood there, greeting Floyd like he had just asked you the time of day, or made some comment about the weather.

“What’s up, Floyd?” you asked, not once trying to wriggle your way out of his grip.

“Oh, nothing much,” squeeeeze. “Just, you know, tryna’ do stuff. Finish a job n’ all.”

To any outsider, this looked like a greeting between two very tall friends. It looked like a hug, or at least an exceptionally long one. Both wore smiles and both spoke of mundane things. To anyone from Night Raven College, however, this looked like a murder in the works.

One, and two, and you fainted all of a sudden, turning limp and unresponsive.

“Hmm?” Floyd perked up, giving you a good shake or two “Hey, hey, I’m talkin’ to ya.”

Still no response.

He sighed, and dragged over your lifeless shell like carrying a sleeping beauty, or something of the sort, to the Mostro Lounge. Neither Jade, nor the other schoolfish, nor the customers paid him much heed as he dragged the thing over to the kitchen’s back disposal area.

Two to zero, for Floyd Leech.

—

One to two, in your favor.

“Hey, Floyd!” and you were right behind him. Of course you were; you never disappointed.

“What’re you doing here!” Floyd giggled, reaching lightheartedly to lock you into another tight squeeze. Hadn’t he squeezed you to death a while ago? Hadn’t he dumped your lifeless husk into the Mostro Lounge’s trash disposal? Hadn’t he felt your pulse fade more and more? Before he could reach you, you skipped over to their next class, leaving him to follow. 

“Tch,” he glared.

You, however, were you, and thus did naught but grin at his stone-cold stare.

And so you continued to talk about mundane things. Oh, what did you do on the weekend? Oh, nothing? That’s okay! Nice weather we’re having, right? He swore he could throw up, then and there.

“Say, Floyd, do you like jazz, or music?” you asked, hopping lightly across the dark carpeted floors. It’s like your footsteps held no weight as they glided from place to place. They always danced just out of reach, too far to grab, shut up, and give a good squeeze, like last time.

“Huh?” he snapped, looking down at you (or, at least, doing so as much as he could) and cocking his head to the side. “So what? Is that some mer-racism junk you’ve got floating in that mindless head of yours?”

You merely laughed at him. The nerve.

Heh, he thought shortly before breaking into a big grin and laughing. “You’ve got some weird ideas, Shrimpy! Next time, I’ll kill ya for real!”

“I didn’t mean to offend you” you said, laughing before stopping at some classroom door. Your eyes were always glued shut, and yet the next thing you said seemed to stare at Floyd right at his very own soul. “But I remember they played a lot of jazz back at home underwater. I wonder if yours was the same.”

Huh?

“See ya!” You waved, before sneaking swiftly into the classroom.

—

“Jade, what would you do if you had a job, did it, but it just kept coming back?”

“Hm? My, what sparked this, Floyd?” Jade was practically sparkling as he set aside his terrarium’s logbook. “Did you have an issue with a job? Azul’s real particular with this sort of thing, you know.”

“Nevermind, I don’t want to hear it.”

“If it were me, why, I would finish the job.”

“Shuddap!” Floyd threw a book straight for Jade’s head. Jade dodged, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

—

There you were, in your natural habitat: the school library. Here, your mannerisms were unique to the You species, like cheating death, faking deaths, and being mysterious.

In reality, you were studying, but who cares.

Floyd took it upon himself to finish the job. First, he’d make himself known. Then, he’d smooth talk his way past your defenses. Lastly, he’ll kill you swiftly, and pretend like he’s carrying you home because you studied too long and passed out, should anyone catch him.

It was perfect, because, Night Raven College being what it is, the library was almost always empty, save a stray goldfish from time to time.

Or, he could just come up and kill you, see how things go, and go all jazzy improv. But half the fun was seeing the fear in the eyes, and the squirming, and he didn’t know any of your weaknesses so far, so the plan–as much as he loathed to admit it–was a go.

Soon, he made his approach.

You froze calmly, stopping your read but keeping the relaxed demeanor. He wondered if you were expecting him, or something. “Hm? Floyd?”

Floyd grinned lazily, scratching the back of his head. “Heya, Shrimpy.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked. Your eyebrows weren’t furrowed, neither were their fingers tense. In fact, they seemed at peace. Calm. You even started smiling at him, which made his own grin grow in response.

“Oh, you know,” Floyd said haphazardly. “Just stuff. Finishing jobs.”

You stood up, closing their book and putting away their stuff into that back they had. This was perfect. While you were busy with your items, he’d-

“There you are, henchman! I’ve been looking for you!”

And now Floyd’s day was infinitely ruined.

“Oh, Grim! I told you I was going to be in the library, though.” You let Grim grab a hold of your arm, pulling him up to your shoulder where he rested comfortably. You then turned to Floyd, smiling at him and his clenched fingers. “It was good seeing you, Floyd.”

‘Oh, it was good seeing you!’ he mocked inwardly, frowning. I’ll show you what good it is to see me, Shrimp. He glared as you started to walk further and further away. His hands were clenched and his eyebrows were furrowed and his shoulders were tense. He was this close. This close!

Soon, though, he was right next to you, out of nowhere, sending you a punch that he knew could be fatal in the right place. That’ll do it, he thought.

But you just swerved a little to the side, dodging him completely while humming some childish little tune.

You gotta be kidding me. He blinked at them dumbfoundedly.

Turning to him, you gasped lightly. “Oh, Floyd! Why didn’t you say you were leaving? We could have walked you to wherever you were going.”

Grim gripped a little harder on your shoulder. “‘We’? Who’s ‘we’? I’m not–”

“Anyways, where are you going? Wanna come along?”

“H-Hey! I didn’t agree with this henchman!!” Heh. That baby seal looked mighty funny while he danced around her shoulder all helpless like that. All tiny versus her gargantuan six-foot human height. “Come on..!”

Soon, Floyd found himself grinning. “Eh, sure, why not!”

—

The two of you quickly developed a routine. In the mornings, Floyd would come over and surprise you with a punch or a jab or any other form of friendly neighborhood violence. Each time, Floyd would find a new way to punch, kick or harm you. Each time, you would find a new way to dodge him.

You’ve run in a grin, like children playing tag. You’ve danced, swerved, jumped, dashed, one time you even caught his hand in a death’s grip. Your hands were ice-cold.

Not once had Floyd Leech succeeded in killing you 100 percent, yet. ‘Yet’ was the key word. He would get there someway. Finish the job he’d started years ago, in first grade. It was the journey he was enjoying more than anything right now. The chase. The struggle.

The crushing look of defeat in your wide eyes.

All to make it all the more satisfying when he finally kills them.

“Hey, Floyd!!” he heard from behind him. It was you, running to him at what seemed like full speed. Your arms were outstretched and your grin was blinding, as per usual.

“Shrimpy!!” Floyd exclaimed with his arms open wide and ready to quite literally squeeze the life out of them. “Come ‘ere!”

But before he could manage a grip, you swerved over to the side in order to hug him from behind. True to the Ramshackle way, it’s as if you were a ghost; as if you just phased straight through him with your incorporeal form. 

“Gotcha!” you said with a laugh.

This was unexpected. New. 

“Pfft.”

Soon, Floyd broke out laughing. Floyd laughed so hard you could have lost their grip on him and could have been sent flying out the window. Just the idea of that was hilarious. “You sure did, Shrimpy!”

—

If anyone on campus was most likely to be a ghost, it was you. And, like ghosts, you was fun to try and poke holes through. Of course, like ghosts, Floyd had never succeeded. You always flew away, or phased out of existence, or just ceased to exist in general. 

It was like you could see him moving before he even moved.

You glided through the campus like a ghost phases in and out of reality. One moment you’re there, the other moment, you’ve disappeared off to the other side of the campus. You danced past his weapons. Each time he was this close to cold-blooded murder, you’ve managed to disarm him completely.

One day, you even supplexed him onto the hard stone floor of the building.

It was moments like these that he felt truly alive: the struggle for survival, the last man standing, the truest colors of the whitest soul being as crimson as blood… Soon, it was exciting to meet up with you later in the day. For the small price of one attempt at murder, he was greeted with a brand-new self-defense mechanism, all in silly little peaceful obliviousness to the de-facto murder he’s been attempting against you for the past semester.

To him, this was hilarious.

—

Three to one, for Floyd Leech.

With a loud and heavy thunk, you laid motionless on the lone table of the Mostro Lounge.

Floyd didn’t notice much of anything about how things got there, really. You had your usual high levels of evasiveness despite your apparent air-headedness and stupidity. He greeted you earlier in the day, as per usual, practically skipping over in some semblance of cheeriness before lunging right at you in an attempt to lock you in a hopefully fatal squeeze. Of course, each time, you would just glide smoothly elsewhere, dodging him completely and inadvertently sending him like a rocket straight to the floor.

There were other things that day, too, like how it looked like you could sense any ill intent from Floyd a mile away, or how you were just never able to sit still enough for him to land any fatal blows.

Floyd had been trying to kill you for the past several weeks, even. And, for the past several weeks, you had escaped death each and every time.

That’s why it was so weird for you to just take whatever drink he handed her from the kitchen and down it all in one go. Floyd being Floyd, the thing was poisoned, and he wanted to know how you’d glide your way out of this once, without causing a scene.

“Surprise me,” you said earlier, with that stupid little grin of yours.

Of course, now he had a dead body to deal with. 

Mission accomplished! ..Sort of.

There was a strange sense of emptiness in his chest as he stared at the lifeless body in front of him. It’s almost as if he was upset that you died that easily! Which he was. Bummer.

“Floyd? What’s that customer doing passed out on the table?” Jade asked perceptively.

“Nothin’, they just sorta passed out after their drink,” Floyd said, frowning intensely. Jade grinned knowingly, of course he did. He looked to be having more fun watching the whole thing than Floyd himself, which wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that Jade found this predicament amusing, it wasn’t fair that you had died so easily, and it wasn’t fair that Floyd saw the entire predicament as so woefully boring.

“Then I do hope you take care of them,” Jade said. Wink-wink nudge-nudge said Just clean it properly.

“Maaaaan,” Floyd sighed, already picking you up by the shoulders. “What a bummer.”

The entire thing was, in fact, so upsetting that Floyd quit work early after disposing of you in some nondescript bog in the middle of who-knows-where. He had around six hours left of his shift, but who cares.

Instead of returning to the Mostro Lounge, he spent his time walking around the shopping district of Sage’s Island, scoping out any new shoes or knick-knacks. Anything to keep his mind distracted.

The sky was orange, one of the many rare colors you never really saw at the bottom of the sea. Clouds, another new-ish thing that resembled waves, danced joyously above him, and he felt odd, knowing he couldn’t swim his way over there, and that he’d probably lose interest halfway through to them.

“What are you thinking of, Floyd?” you asked him from behind.

Two to three, in your favor.

“I mean, I keep killing you but you just keep coming back.” Floyd gave a lengthy sigh, turning to you. “What’s yer deal, anyhow? Tryna’ haunt me or somethin’?”

You only ever smiled at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know, fish boy?”

Oh, he was so over this.

“Tch.”

“I-I mean,” you waved your hands frantically at him as he started speeding up ahead. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you!”

“Yeah, and?” Floyd snapped, suddenly stopping and letting you clumsily bump into him with a thunk. He watched as you stumbled, almost falling to the ground, but quickly regaining composure. That stupid grin of yours still never faded. “It’s getting mighty annoying that you’re just buzzing around like little shrimp plankton in my ear.”

“You wouldn't understand,” you insisted. “For a school of magic, nobody really believes in any death-defying curses inflicted on the students.”

Pfft. The two of them shared a staring contest. It was weird, seeing you stare at him with their eyes closed, oddly serious, and unusually hesitant. Your closed eyes–as they’d always done–seemed to look straight into his soul. 

Curses? Death defy? This sent him into a giggling fit. “Man, just some silly little curse? Yeah, you were right, that’s a load of crap!”

“So, you don’t believe me?”

“Hmm? Nope, no way!” Floyd beamed at them.

You smiled at him, laughing back. “Well, that’s good!”

— — —

The room was dimly lit, with familiar hues of blue and purple all over. In the corner of your ear, you could hear soft, running water. Something about the place was so eerie. Whether it was the familiar sound of water rushing in your ears, or the colors that seemed to remind you of the Coral Sea. Perhaps it was your grin, plastered on your face constantly, like it was stapled there.

The man sat across you, pen in hand and with his legs crossed. He sat upright. Proper. He was in his element, while you weren’t sure what yours was. Air, or water?

“The others say you can make any wish come true,” you stated.

The man nodded. “For a price, yes.”

“How big are the miracles we're talking about here?” “I am sure you’ve heard the rumors,” he tapped his pen onto the small stack of  papers in his hand. “Rest assured, they are all true.”

“I want to remember my life before I got into Night Raven College.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“And what are you willing to gamble?”

You stared at Azul with those lifeless eyes of yours, dead serious. “My life.”

— — —

“Heya, Shrimpy!!” Floyd beamed from the very opposite of the hallway. He could just barely see you from among the school of tiny little fishies, standing out like a giant shipwreck just peaking above the surface of the water. 

It was then that he saw your eyes. Bright eyes; soft and glittering like gemstones. But they widened when they met Floyd’s own chaotic, mismatched hues, and you turned away in a hurry. Soon enough, you were lost in the ocean of students, leaving Floyd to just stand there, at first surprised, then a bit sad, then pricked off.

“Whatever,” he muttered to himself, bumping shoulders with just about any schoolfish that got in his way and sending about half of them straight into the floor. 

Floyd ignored the marring taste of oil crawling up his throat.

–

You didn’t know what came over you.

Maybe it was something akin to fear or pain, with you feeling left like your skin was being teared at every passing second, like it was dissolving, and fading, and fizzing away, fast. Too fast. One look at Floyd’s mismatched eyes, and you were in the ocean in the middle of the night, dying.

Your lungs were lead and your blood ran cold. Your heart was beating a mile a minute.

Was it fear? Or affection? Up until now, you had felt neither.

As you ducked your head and pulled your cap a little further down, Grim commented “Hm? What’s with you right now?”

But you kept walking, until you could no longer smell that oh-so unfamiliar scent of death. Until you couldn’t hear the bells tolling your eleventh hour. Until you could no longer feel the sting of the scythe that was Floyd Leech right at your neck.

Finally, you reached a quiet place.

You forced air through your throat. In and out, in and out, in and out…

Slowly, with each breath, a new memory came. A new sensation. A new feeling. All of it felt so new, so invigorating, but you knew that you had felt it all: the sting of death, the bells, the skin, the ocean, all of it.

Most of all you felt yourself dying to Floyd Leech in the first grade.

Why would he do that? Why would he keep doing that?

Knowing what you know now, would you still live if he were to kill you again?

You felt like a cat on its ninth life. 

“Hey,” Grim called you by your name with a slight shake in his voice and a worried tone. He hung over your shoulder like a stuffed animal and hummed worriedly.

“I’m fine, Grim, I just…” The words died midway through your throat, and it felt like a mouse had crawled up and died there. You choked out, “I’ve never been afraid of dying until today.”

“Huh??” Grim asked, gripping onto your shoulder just a little tighter. “Who’s threatening my henchman! I’mma fight them!”

You sighed, waving him off.

“It’s okay, Grim. I’m not going to die,” you reassured him. You were so exhausted; so dead tired. You wanted to sleep, and never wake up. “I’m sure that whatever he did, it was for good reason.”

Grim huffed.

—

“Is there anything the matter, Floyd?”

“Shuddap, Jade,” Floyd said, throwing a pillow at Jade hard. Jade, however, being Jade, dodged the rocket projectile smoothly. “Tch.”

The room they shared felt small when it was compared to the vastness of the sea. Take two or three steps from Floyd’s mess of a bed bed and you end up in Jade Land™. Jade’s half of the room was clean, ordered and precise, as if he was expecting guests or someone to impress. Floyd’s room, however, was familiar. His own clothes were strewn all across the floor where he knew where they were until he actually felt like tossing them in the washer. If guests came over, it was their fault of expecting so much of him.

“Your shift started thirty minutes ago,” Jade noted while going to his desk and opening the first textbook in a whole rectangular stack of them. He lightly perused it as Floyd scoffed, blowing listlessly at his dark hair strand.

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t want to work, so he wouldn’t. Simple as that.

“Well, Azul came to me and told me to tell you to ‘get your act together’. You caused quite the commotion today at the Lounge.” 

“Heck yeah, I did.” Floyd laughed mirthlessly. The smell of smoke, the heat of fire and the sound of screams still echoed somewhat joyously in his mind. But the reason for it all hit him once again, and Floyd slumped down again, frowning angrily. “And watcha’ gonna do about it?”

“Oh, nothing. You know that,” Jade said, flipping the textbook pages a little before grabbing the first few in the pile and heading to the door. “In fact, I found it oh-so terribly funny when that one poor, unfortunate student ran around with his uniform on fire.”

“Obviously.”

“Anyway, that human you call “Shrimpy” is just outside by the door. I just wanted to let you know before I left.”

“Jade, you absolute prick–” but Jade was gone in a swift second.

You leaned on the doorframe; tall, and yet hunched over as if willing your actual presence to be smaller than their height. It was stupid-looking.

“Well, spit it out,” Floyd glared, standing up slowly to meet them eye-to-eye. He scratched the back of his neck to make himself look larger with his arm, more intimidating. The whole thing was a drag, and all he wanted to do was nothing.

“You killed me, right?” you said quietly. It was almost a struggle to piece together your words, and Floyd wasn’t one for puzzles. You looked away whenever he would meet you in the eyes, twiddling your fingers and acting all coy. The whole thing was so dumb.

“Several times, yeah. What took you this long to notice?” were the words he threw out casually, guiding them to the nearby chair at his desk and giving them a look as if to say, Well? Sit down.

“No, like,” you shook your head, staying put on the edge of the doorframe. Floyd plopped down on his own bed with a splat. “When we were kids.”

“Kids?”

You looked at the oh-so inviting ground, hiding your face under that blue cap of yours. “..Back at the Coral Sea.”

“Huh. I killed a lot of people back then,” Floyd whistled. Those were good times. “You’re gonna hafta refresh my memory.”

“That jellyfish kid you ripped to shreds? Like, during around the first grade or so?”

“Oh, so you’re that jellyfish!” Floyd said, pointing at you, prompting you to nod in return. Truth be told, he was just messing with you. Seeing you squirm and act all nervously like you’d missed a payment or three. You deserved it, anyhow, and he had fun with it.

Floyd laughed at you, cruelly and coldly, though it wasn’t like you would have ever noticed the difference between that and real, bonafide laughter. He laughed like he was mocking you, like he was bigger than you, stronger, and ready to kill.

You laughed nervously on the doorframe, leaning back a little. Your shoulders were stiff and their voice was all out of whack.

“Well, if you’re gonna be a coward about it now, stop messing around and run,” Floyd said, standing up suddenly and glaring. 

You stared at him, wide-eyed, with your mouth slightly agape before quickly shutting and stumbling to regain your composure.

“Wh–” You sounded so lost.

“You heard me,” he frowned, giving up and falling right back down into the comfort of his bed. “I killed you once, twice, three times, I can kill you again.”

“It’s not like that. I trust you.” Sure you did, standing at the doorframe like it was a last resort to run and hide. Sure you did. “You wouldn’t do that.”

Sure he wouldn’t.

“Oh, then you must be a bigger airhead than I thought, huh?” Floyd smiled, stretching his arms wide and ready to lock you into another death grip. Maybe this time will be the last time. “Get over here, my arms are wiiiide open for a good squeeze.”

But you did come forward. You went past the doorframe, into his mess of a room, and gently locked Floyd into a tight hug. He squeezed you tightly, once, then twice, but not one time did you so much as flinch. You just hugged him as if you wanted to, as if you trusted him. 

After a pause, he hugged back. He hugged you tightly, and didn’t let go for a good five minutes.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you earlier today,” you said. “I remembered a whole lot, and… It was a lot.”

Floyd grinned on your shoulder. His hug was soft, and all-encompasing. “Eh, it’s all water under the bridge” he said, saying your name properly this time.

— 

“Hey, Shrimpy! What’s up?” Floyd said, standing tall behind you. You sat hunched over the library desk, searching for the answers to the universe, or something. That’s what Floyd figured, with how you composed yourself.

Your shoulders were tense, with a stack of textbooks to your left and a pile of disorganized papers to your right. There were eraser bits all over the desk and your lap, and some papers had even been ripped on accident. There were pens and markers strewn all over the place, and your little corner of the library was much less of a study space than it was a panic room for solving the end of the world.

This was new.

“Grrk,” you scoffed at yourself. 

Floyd grinned at the sudden display of distress. He gripped onto the edges of your chair and swayed back and forth. “Woah, high praise. Really. I don’t deserve it.”

“It’s just…” You gestured to nothing in particular before pinching the bridge of your nose.. “Studying got so much harder since… The thing.”

“Ooooh, the thing.”

“Yeah, I just can’t seem to focus anymore. I want to do all this other stuff, I don’t want to study.” Then realization flooded your eyes. “Oh my goodness, I don’t even think I know how to.”

“You can’t even study?” Floyd poked, pulling himself a chair off some poor student who didn’t even want to be there anyways. “Want me to give you some pointers?”

You sucked up your pride, grinning hopelessly with your eyes closed. It felt painful to look reality in the eye and admit that you needed help. “Sure. That would be great, Floyd.”

“Stonks. So what are we studying today?” You looked away from him, gripping your pencil a little harder.

“...Math.”

“Ugh, nevermind.” He quickly got out of his chair.

“Wh-” you scrambled, rushing to grab at his sleeve oh-so gently. Floyd paused. “Wait!”

A librarian in the corner squashed harshly.

“ʷᵃᶦᵗᵎᵎ” you whispered. There was a wide look in your eyes, like the world was ending and you needed Floyd to get through it all. After he stared at you for a good few seconds, you looked away. “Do you have time, to, I don’t know… Kill time?”

“Honestly, in a library? I’d rather not. I can hook you up with Azul, get you a discount, or somethin’…”

You met him in the eyes, softening your grip on his sleeve. “I have candy?”

“Now we're talkin’,” he said, grinning as he took back his seat and slid his chair back into the desk. “What kind?”

Subject was sound asleep, breathing softly without a care in the world. In fact, they were even resting on Floyd’s shoulder.

After all his complaining, and this is what he gets? Treated like furniture, like a pillow? He should have left you to study in the library all by yourself back when he had the chance.

Regardless, you had been studying for the past hour or so. You deserved some sort of break, he guessed. And it was a miracle that Floyd hadn’t lost interest once throughout the entire thing, considering he never really needed to study. It was even more rare whenever he felt like doing so.

He could probably kill you now, if he wanted to.

But the two of you were in a public school library. There were the other students, the librarians, the staff… Not to mention, he didn’t have a proper weapon to stab you with, unless dulled, half-used mechanical pencils counted.

Floyd yawned. Between you and him and the warm silence of the library, he had spent all his energy watching you struggle with math. It was a long day of nothing for Floyd Leech.

He soon found his head softly falling onto yours as he lost his grip on wakefulness.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

You're My Home

Summary: You and Javi have both had one of those weeks where no matter how hard you try, nothing seems to go right. It only takes so long before something stupid makes the both of you snap. When Javi confesses to you what's been putting him on edge, you find a way to make it up to each other.

Word Count: 4.9K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), established relationship, unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap), vaginal fingering, creampie, angst, PTSD (poor Javi has a panic attack but you help him through it), hurt/comfort, makeup sex (!!!!), bad communication but apologizing/forgiving each other, mentions of food/eating, reader wears Javi's shirt and is carried by Javi, fluff fluff fluff bc you two are so in love with each other it hurts

This can be read as a stand alone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

A/N: I don't know what's been in the water that has me so compelled to make something angsty, but here we are!! Once I started writing this I quite literally could not stop, and it turned out to be one of the most intimate things I have ever written 😭🥺 I love these two sm

It had been a week. 

A long fucking week. 

One of those weeks where it felt like no matter how hard you tried, everything just felt… off. You had just started volunteering to run the Alma Pierce Elementary School drama club, which had you staying an extra hour and a half after school every Monday and Wednesday, on top of preparing for Parent-Teacher Conferences next week. You loved your group of students this year, but holy shit, were they chatty, and the past few days you felt like you might as well have put a cardboard cutout of yourself at the front of the room and left, because your class had absolutely zero interest in paying attention to you. To top it off, you could tell that Javi was having a bad week too. You hadn’t seen much of each other the past few days, with you working late and prepping for conferences, and Javi working on a new project the department had dropped in his lap without notice. Even though you lived in the same apartment, you had felt like strangers this week. Sure, you’d had off days before, but the two of you were always open and honest with each other, seeking comfort and safety in the other's presence, knowing that you were both there for one another, through good times, and bad. 

But this week was not like those “off” days. Something about it had felt tense, cold, even. You hated it. You hated every second of it. The two of you were never like this. Javi was your best friend, yet somehow, sitting in the same room, you still felt a million miles apart. Every interaction that you’d had left a worse taste in your mouth than the last- snapping at each other over stupid things like unclosed containers in the fridge or leaving towels on the bathroom floor. The worst was that Javi just could not seem to let things go, his presence feeling overbearing, almost bossy, with everything that you did. 

“You left the iron on while you were getting ready, you’re gonna burn down the fucking aparment.” 

“Double check the locks on the door, you forgot this morning.” 

“If you don’t fix the bath mat before you get in the shower, you’re gonna break your goddamn head open.” 

Even worse than that, when you tried to politely remind Javi about something, or do something helpful for him, he had been a complete asshole to you. 

“Yes, I can remember to clean it up after I’m done, I’m not fucking 8 years old.” 

“Jesus, I know we need more coffee creamer, you put it on the grocery list and reminded me twice.” 

“I can put away my own laundry, just let me do it.” 

It felt like he was breathing down your neck, the fly in your ear that just wouldn’t go away, and it made you want to scream. You had considered yourself to be a pretty patient person- working with kids, you had to be, but this week, Javier Peña seemed to be testing every ounce of patience you had left in your body, and you were about to run out.  

Your Friday night routine with Javi normally consisted of the 3 same things every week

Javi picking up pizza from place down the street on the way home from work

Eating the pizza and watching a movie 

Pausing said movie to have sex, finish watching the movie, and then fall asleep on the couch. 

On this particular Friday, you had a very strong suspicion that none of those 3 things would be happening tonight. When you came home, you practically collapsed from exhaustion the moment you got through the door. Dropping your bag and kicking off your shoes, you crawled your way to the couch, completely collapsing in its cushions, taking a few deep breaths to try and regain your composure from the hellish day it had been. You finally mustered up enough strength to get up and change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable before sulking around the apartment, making yourself finish chores that had seemed to go neglected all week. Javi was normally home a half hour after you, but as you looked up at the clock, he was 20 minutes later than usual. It wasn’t long before another hour had gone by, leaving you absolutely starving, unable to wait for the dinner Javi may or may not be bringing home. You scavenged through your fridge and pantry, pulling out sauce and spaghetti to make yourself pasta to at least tide you over. 

When Javi got home two hours past his normal arrival, you were shocked by the smell of pizza that filled your apartment as he walked through the door. You were even more shocked by the reaction he had to seeing the pot of noodles you had left out on the stove while you sat at the kitchen table to finish report cards to hand out at conferences. 

“Did you already fucking eat?” His tone was sharp and brash as he dropped the pizza box on the kitchen counter. 

“Well you’re home two hours later than normal, Javi. What was I supposed to do? Not eat? I’m more than capable of fending for myself if you’re not here with pizza.” You could feel pressure in your stomach rising, clenching your fists to try and hold in the last bit of patience you had. 

“That’s not the fucking point. You know I always get pizza for us on Friday, you know I’m bringing you dinner, I can’t help that things have been a shit show at work and I’m still trying to at least do something to take care of you.” 

Take care of you? Nuh, uh. That was the last straw. 

You stood up out of your chair, palms flat on the table as you glared at Javi. “Take care of me? Seriously, Javi? Like I’m some sort of helpless little puppy that can’t fend for themself? I am more than fucking capeable of taking care of myself, and this whole week you have been acting like I am literally incapable of doing anything in this house. Listen, I can tell things have been shitty for you at work, and this week has sucked for me too, but every time I try to go do something nice for you, something to actually help take care of you? You’re already halfway down my goddamn throat, telling me to stop or fix whatever it is I’m doing.” Your heart was racing, blood pumping through your veins so intensely, you could feel your hands begin to shake. 

“Because it’s my fucking job to take care of you!” He growled, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as you stood with your hands on your hips, laughing at him in the least humorous way possible. 

“Your job? Your fucking job? You don’t think I’m capable of taking care of myself? That’s fucking great. So you can take care of me, but I can’t take care of you? Yeah, that makes sense. Un-fucking-believeable. I don’t know what the fuck has been going on with you this past week, but I can’t do this right now. I’m going on a fucking run.” You stormed to the door, throwing on your shoes as you white knuckled your keys in your grasp. 

“You fucking hate running!” Javi yelled, clenching his jaw before burying his hands in his face. 

“I don’t fucking care!” You grunted back, deliberately slamming the door behind you as you sauntered down the stairs of your apartment to the parking lot. Javi was right, there was no physical activity you hated more than running. You weren’t really sure what your plan was, just that you couldn’t stand there fighting with Javi anymore. You could feel the adrenaline flowing through you, enough to make you pick up your feet and actually begin sprinting down the sidewalk. You just kept running. Running until you could feel your sides begin to hurt, until your eyes began to sting from the tears welling behind them, until your chest felt like it was collapsing in on you, making you stop in the middle of the cement pathway in a full on breakdown. You could barely catch your breath, sobbing, as your hands dropped to your knees, your body trembling with each pathetic whimper. 

What the fuck were you doing? Why was Javi being like this? Why were you being like this? Why won’t he just talk to you? Why can you just not make things right? Why was the one person you loved more than anything in the world the one who was making you feel like you’d been run over by a semi-truck? 

Wiping your tears and snot with your sleeve, you took a deep breath and turned around to head home, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was causing you to both suffer through the worst week ever.

“Javi?” You peeked into the apartment, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“What?” He answered, his voice still sharp, making you wince as you walked over to the couch where he sat. 

“Javi… Javi what’s going on? I can’t do this anymore. If I did something to make you mad, I’m sorry, I just-” 

“Fucking work has just been a shit show, okay?” He snapped, cutting off your sentence. “I’m going to bed, I’m fucking exhausted.” He sighed as he got up, storming his way down the hallway, leaving you there alone on the couch, your bottom lip quivering as the tears began to stream down your face again, leaving you in a silent, sobbing heap on the couch. 

You waited a while before getting into bed with Javi, entering your bedroom in its already dark state to avoid crossing paths while the two of you finished your nighttime routines. You crawled into your comforter, eyes still red and puffy as you lay back to back with Javi, without so much as even a good night, let alone, an “I love you.” 

You could feel yourself stirring, tossing and turning in your sleep as you rolled over, outstretching your arm to an unfamiliarly empty space. You turned over to face Javi, now finding yourself wide awake at the fact that he wasn’t there next to you. Immediately, you shot up, calling out his name as you got out of bed, wondering where the hell he was. As you made your way into the hallway, you whispered his name once more before hearing the sounds of heavy, labored breathing coming from the living room. You rushed in, finding Javi sitting on the floor, his hand grasping at his chest with a look of pure panic on his face. 

“I feel like… Fuck, I feel like I can’t breathe. My heart is beating so fast.” He whimpered between his shaky breathing and sobs. “I just- I just kept seeing it over and over again in my head and I woke up and it still wouldn’t go away. Every when I wake up, it’s like it’s fucking haunting me. I feel like something’s crushing my chest. Baby, what’s happening?” He gasped as he looked up at you, helpless and desperate.  

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You knew exactly what was happening. 

Immediately, you climbed into his lap, wrapping yourself around him as tightly as possible, stretching your arms as widely as you could around the broadness of his body. You tried to slow your breathing down, taking long inhales and exhales as you held him. “Just breathe, baby. It’s okay. You’re safe, I promise. I’m here. Deep breaths, okay?” 

“Osita, I can’t- Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” His voice was trembling, each word low and labored as he grasped at the back of his shirt you had draped over your back. 

“I know, baby. I know. I know it’s scary. I promise that you’re safe. I’m here, okay? Just breathe. In and out. I’m not leaving. You’re safe with me, I promise it will be okay.” Even though your heart was shattering, you did everything you could to be the calm in his storm, whispering your reassurances in your soft, sweet voice. Slowly but surely, you could feel the intensity of his breaths lessen, the rising and falling of his chest easing as he grasped tighter at your shirt, pulling you closer to him. 

“It’s okay, Javi. It’s okay. Listen, I’m gonna ask you to do something, alright? It’s gonna sound stupid but it’s gonna help.” You could feel him nod against your chest, his sobs finally beginning to slow. “Can you open your eyes and tell me 5 things you see?” You felt him lift his head, looking up at you, his face wet and red as his deep brown eyes locked with yours.

“Fuck, um, the- the wall, the carpet, the uh, um, the couch, shit, the TV, you. I can see you.” 

“Okay, perfect. What about 4 things you can touch, like feel in your hands?” You smiled gently at him as his breathing was now at a near normal rate. He raised up his arm, wiping his damp face with his palm. 

“My fucking wet face.” The both of you smirked, bringing you relief that Javi was already half laughing. “The carpet, my shirt, that always looks better on you than it does on me. Fuck, I can feel your skin, it’s always so soft. I love feeling it.” He ran one of his hands along the bare skin of your thigh, his fingers grasping at your flesh. 

“You’re doing great, baby. How about 3 things you can hear?” 

“Um, the cars outside, the fan, I could feel your heartbeat when I was on your chest.” He pressed his head back against you, raking your fingers through the ends of his damp curls, sticking to his forehead from his panicked sweat. 

Okay, almost done. What about 2 things you can smell?” You asked, running your fingers along the nape of his neck. 

“Your shirt smells like laundry. No matter how hard I try it just always smells better when you do it. And your shampoo. It always smells so sweet and fruity, it’s my favorite.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hand gently tugging at the ends of your hair, twisting his fingers through it. 

“Okay, last one. Something you can taste.” He lifted his head, looking at you as he slid the hand in your hair to cradle your jaw, cupping your face. 

“You.” He rasped, his lips barely pressing against yours, feeling the hot breaths between your mouths as they met. He pulled back, pausing for a moment before he spoke. “Baby…I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. This week has been all my fault. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this and I was scared. I was so fucking scared.” 

“Javi, it’s okay. Please, I just want to be here for you. You know you can tell me anything, okay? I love you, Javi. I love you more than anything. I know it hurts to talk about the things that scare you the most, but it’s even scarier watching the person you love hurt so badly and not knowing what to do to help them. I don’t care what it is, baby. There’s nothing you can tell me that’s gonna scare me away.” The look on his face nearly broke you. You could tell he was so hurt. Hurt by whatever had been haunting him. Hurt by the fact he wasn’t okay. Hurt by the fact that he had hurt you. 

“The project I’ve been working on this week… It all started because of how bad things are getting across the border in Mexico. A mom was out with her kids and they were all shot in a hit and run accident between two people making a drug trade. It was only an hour from here. I watched so many people do so many fucked up things that I thought I would never have to worry about again once I got home. And even if I did, I was going to be the only person I needed to worry about. But I couldn’t stop imagining that mom with her kids was you. You and our future kids. Every night since that fucking case file got set on my desk, I wake up to the same fucking nightmare of me running down the street, trying to grab you, push you, do anything to get you out of the way, but every fucking night I’m never fast enough. All I can do is watch as that bullet goes through you and you fall to the ground. I can’t let it happen to you. What if something goes wrong and I can’t protect you? I couldn’t fucking live with myself. I just want to keep you safe Osita. I’m so sorry. I love you too much to lose you.” 

Fuck. 

It wasn’t long before you were crying with him, squeezing him tightly once again, pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. That’s what had been going on. That’s why he had been so overbearing. That’s why he hadn’t been the Javi that you’d known and loved this week. On the night he’d told you the worst of the things he had seen and done away in Colombia, you had seen how his eyes had filled with regret, remorse, even anger. But this was different. Never once in the time that you’d known him had you seen Javi so scared. The look in his eyes when you found him sitting on the floor was one of pure terror. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like, waking up night after night to the image of Javi slipping away, let alone coming to grips with the reality that you couldn’t even fathom, and he knew far too well. Javi knew you had no problem sticking up for yourself. You were strong, tough, and fiercely independent- those were all things he loved so much about you. But those things weren’t enough to protect you from the dangers that haunted his past, or the terrifying reality of the present. 

Through the silent cries of your sobs, you felt Javi’s hand under your chin, lifting your head to force your eyes to meet. “Osita, I’m so sorry. Pease, please forgive me. I’ve been so lost in my own world this week because I’ve been so scared about what could happen to you. I had my head so far up my own ass that I thought I was doing everything I could to try and keep you safe in any way that I could, and instead I’ve just been a fucking dick to the person I care about more than anything in the world. I don’t wanna fight anymore, I fucking hate it. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

You draped your arms around his neck, your fingers tracing small, gentle circles along his back as you stared back at him. “I didn’t know, Javi. I didn’t know you were so scared. I’m so sorry. I don’t wanna fight anymore either. This has been the shittiest week. I missed you. I missed my best friend.” He pressed his hand against the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he hugged you tightly. “You just have to promise me something, okay?” 

“Anything. Anything, baby.” 

“You have to promise me that you can’t keep all of this in. You have to promise me you’ll talk to someone about it. Me, your dad, people at work, Steve, a therapist, someone. There are so many people who care so much about you who just wanna help. You’re the strongest person I know, Javi, but it’s okay to not be strong sometimes.” He let out a long, shaky breath, darting his eyes down at the ground, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. “You promise me?” You asked again, grabbing his face in your hands, swiping your thumb along his wet cheeks. 

“I promise.” 

In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how sorry you were for the way you had acted. You found yourself face to face, eyes closing as your mouths came together in the most gentle, tender kiss. But even as your parted lips barely pressed against one another, you could practically feel how desperate you both were. 

“I love you.” 

Even though you whispered it against the soft, unshaven stubble of Javi’s cheek, it feels like you’re screaming it, determined to make sure he hears those 3 words as they fall from your lips, that he knows how much you mean each one, every second of every hour of every day. You can feel the heat in your chest as his hands grasp around the small of your back, pulling you closer as your bodies melt together, the tension straining in your muscles dissipating with each second he pulls you closer. 

“I love you too.” 

It felt like suddenly, all was right with the world again. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how desperately he craved you, too. The tingle built at the base of your spine as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his hand creeping further up your belly, pressing against the curves of your sides. You raised your arms as his fists balled up the worn fabric, carefully lifting it over your head as his hot breath ran against your neck, leaving gentle, tender kisses along your newly exposed skin. Your hands pressed against his hips, tugging at the waistband of his cotton sleep shorts as he locked his arms under your legs, bringing you both to stand as you wrapped your legs around the small of his back, the skin of your bare chests brushing against each other as he carried you toward the bedroom. Each kiss of your parted lips was like a plea, begging that the other would forgive you, that despite the way you had treated each other there was no one in the world that you loved more, that you would rather be with right here, right now. 

Crossing the threshold to the bedroom, Javi leaned his body over the mattress, carefully placing you down in the warm, tangled sheets of your bed that had felt so cold and harsh only a few hours ago. You looked up at Javi standing at the end of the bed as he nudged his shorts off of his hips, leaving him exposed, the clothes now pooling around his ankles. Crawling over you, he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, the only thing left on your body after your shirt had been left behind in the living room. You lifted your hips, helping him shuffle the fabric down your legs as he ran his hands along the meat of your thighs. He leaned over you, the temples of your foreheads pressed against each other as his fingers danced along the skin of your bare legs, barely grazing against your entrance. You could already feel the slick of your arousal pooling under his touch, the calloused pads of his fingers ever so gently tracing up and down your folds, making you shutter. 

“Javi... Please.” Your voice trembled as Javi nodded, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You gasped as you felt the thickness of his fingers heedfully pushing themselves inside you, arching your back against the bed as his thumb delicately pressed on your clit. Each thrust of his hand in and out of your heat was dragging and deliberate, the rubbing of his fingertip along your sensitive bundle of nerves making your moans muffled against his chest. Every touch of his hand made you feel better than the last, but there was something primal about the way that you needed him inside you, how you ached to feel him buried deep in heat, to feel every inch of him. “I need you. Please, I need you.” You whimpered against his skin, making him lift his head to look at you as you watched the chocolate brown of his eyes grow darker with lust. He worked in silence, removing his fingers as he stroked himself, making your cunt throb in anticipation as you felt the tip of his cock stroke along your entrance, a moan escaping from your parted lips as he guided himself inside you. 

“Fuck…” He whispered, pushing himself in further, inch by inch, before bottoming out, his tip bumping against your cervix. You wrapped your legs around his back, doing anything you could to bring him closer to you, trying to melt your bodies into one and hold him so tightly you could never let him float away again. You dug your nails into his muscular back as he began to thrust in and out of you, taking his time with each stroke, as if he was savoring every sweet moment. “I love you, Osita. I love you so much, baby. Gonna make you feel good, okay? I promise.” It was like you could feel his words with each stroke, the promise that had fallen from his lips burying itself deep inside you with every rock of his hips against yours. Your bedroom was filled with the sounds of your mixed moans and skin hitting against each other. Even when no words escaped from your mouths, it was almost as if you could hear each other through the sounds between the two of you, coating your walls. 

I love you. 

I need you. 

I’m so sorry. 

His palm pressed along the sheen of your skin, snaking down your body to rub against your clit, intensifying the throbbing that you already felt growing between your legs. With each thrust of his hips, his cock pounded deeper into your heat, hitting the spot within you that had the arousal beginning to pool intensely within your belly, that creeping familiar feeling building at the base of your spine. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him. 

“Javi, pleaseee. Bab-ahhhhh, I’m so close.” You felt your cunt begin to clench around his length, making him moan as each push and pull of hips became more intense, punching against your g-spot and making your writhe under his touch.

“I know you are, Hermosa. Cum for me baby, cum all over me and show me how you’re mine.” 

His words make something inside you snap, making you shake and your body tense as your arms and legs tightened their grip around Javi, crying out his name as your orgasm rushed through you. His lips met yours, swallowing your moans as his pumps became frantic and sloppy, only taking a few more before he was chasing his own high. “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking perfect. Te amo más que a nada. Soy tyuo para siempre. (I love you more than anything, I’m yours, forever.). Fuck, I’m gonna- shit- I’m- ahhhhhhh” With one last push, you could feel him throbbing inside you, spilling against your walls, pumping every last drop of himself inside you as he slumped into your body, your hearts racing, chests rising and falling as one. The two of you laid there for a moment, your bodies tangled in each other, letting each of your breaths sync as you came down from your blissed out highs. Javi hissed as he turned over to pull out of you, making you whine at the loss, before rolling over to lay your head on his chest. You could feel his arm wrap around you to pull you in closer, his fingers tracing along your shoulder blade as you draped your arm across his stomach. 

“I guess that’s one way to make up for this shitty week.” You giggled as Javi shook his head, joining you, the both of you glad to hear the sweet sounds of each other's laughter for the first time in much too long. “Can we never do this again? I never wanna fight like that ever again. These last few days have sucked without you.” 

“Never. This was the fucking worst. Never again. I promise.” He kissed the top of your head, burying his nose in your messy curls as he held you just a little bit tighter. 

“Okay.” You smiled against his warm, tanned skin before looking up at him. “You wanna know the worst part?” 

“What, baby?” 

“I didn’t even get to eat any of that pizza.” Javi chuckled as he shook you playfully in his grasp, making you squirm and snicker as he held you. 

“There’s still some left in the fridge. Let me go get it and you can tell me all about your week, okay?” He kissed your forehead as he pushed himself out of bed, making his way to the door. 

“Okay. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, I didn’t even get to tell you how I had to call Mark’s mom in the middle of math because he stuck a crayon up his nose yesterday.” The both of you snorted as Javi looked back at you. 

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.” 

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed

[velvetsupremacy]

In My Head (Part 1)

Pairing: Irene x FEM Reader

Summary: In which Joohyun is a popular cheerleader majoring in psychology and you’re a hopeless gay who reports on Joohyun’s boyfriend’s, Minho, soccer season and you’re paired together for a class project.

Word Count: 8.9k words

Warning: Alcohol use but very brief, no smut

So sorry for the delay but here's part 1, part 2 (final part) coming soon!!

The start of junior year felt like the beginning of something big for you. You practically skipped across the campus lawn, camera bag bouncing against your hip as you soaked in the buzz of excitement that hung in the air. It wasn’t just about covering the men’s soccer team for the college news station, even though the team was expected to go all the way to the championship this year. No, it was the possibility of seeing her again - Joohyun.

“Look at you, all perked up,” Yerim teased, pulling her sunglasses down. “Excited about watching a bunch of dudes sweat it out on a field?”

“Hey, it’s for the story,” you said, pretending to sound professional but failing miserably as you grinned ear to ear. “We need a good story to start the year, and this team’s perfect for that.”

Yerim arched an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Uh-huh. And the fact that Joohyun will be bouncing around in a skirt has nothing to do with your sudden love for sports?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Yerim shot back, her smirk widening. “Just don’t drool on your camera lens.”

Yerim had a point, though. You had met her in a media law class last year, bonding over your shared major and mutual love for Ariana Grande. Since then, you'd become close friends, sharing everything from class notes to hangover remedies. Yerim had a knack for reading you like an open book, which was both a blessing and a curse.

You both reached the field, and your breath caught in your throat as your gaze zeroed in on the cheerleaders warming up on the sidelines.

Your eyes found Joohyun almost immediately, as if drawn to her like a moth to a very, very hot flame. Joohyun, with her long, silky brunette hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial, was impossible to miss. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves, catching the sunlight with every effortless toss of her head. She was short - barely 5’3”- but every inch of her was perfectly proportioned, from her slightly toned legs that peeked out from under her cheer skirt to the soft, delicate features of her face. Joohyun looked like she’d stepped out of a dream, all elegance and confidence wrapped in a cheer uniform that somehow made her both sweet and dangerously alluring at the same time.

She twirled a pom-pom, laughing at something one of her teammates said, and for a moment, you forgot how to function.

Bae Joohyun wasn’t just a cheerleader. She was practically campus royalty. A psychology major with plans to go to law school, Joohyun had a reputation for being not only drop-dead gorgeous but also frighteningly smart. She had a soothing voice that made her a favorite at the college radio station where she hosted a show once a week and probably had a fan club just for the way she said, “Good morning.”

For you, the crush had started last year in the most cliché way possible. You’d been covering a student rally, trying to capture the perfect shot of the crowd, when Joohyun had stepped up to the microphone. The crowd had quieted instantly, hanging on her every word. You focused on getting the perfect shot, but when you looked up through the lens and saw Joohyun’s face, something had clicked.

There was a passion in Joohyun’s voice, a fire that matched the intensity of her gaze. She had spoken about the importance of mental health with a conviction that was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just that Joohyun was beautiful—though she definitely was. It was that she seemed to care so deeply, to be so fully herself, that it drew you in like nothing else had.

Since then, you’d found herself “accidentally” ending up anywhere Joohyun might be, even if it was just to catch a glimpse from afar.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Yerim said, snapping a picture of the team’s star player, Choi Minho, as he jogged onto the field. “You’ve been swooning over her for, what, months now?”

“Not gonna happen,” you denied vehemently, shaking your head. “Not while she’s with Minho, and not unless I know for sure she even likes girls. Plus, someone like her going for someone like me? Yeah, right.”

Yerim snorted. “You say that like you’re not a catch. Besides, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching.”

“Yeah, like I’m the weird girl with the camera who’s always lurking in the background,” you chuckled.

“Or maybe like she’s trying not to blush every time you’re within a hundred feet,” Yerim retorted.

You would like to believe Yerim, but the idea of Joohyun returning your feelings felt about as likely as you becoming a professional soccer player overnight. Still, you couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up at the thought.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself, zooming in on Minho as he made a perfect pass. But your mind wandered back to that rally last year. Joohyun had been captivating then, and she was just as captivating now. The crush that had started in that moment had only grown, fed by every little thing you had learned about her since.

“Hey,” Yerim snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Practice is wrapping up. Let’s go get those interviews before you lose your mind.”

“Right,” you said, lowering the camera. You had a job to do—a story to tell. But as you headed toward the team, your gaze lingered on Joohyun for just a moment longer. What was it about her that made your heart do that little flip every time you saw her? It was ridiculous, really. A crush on a girl you could never be with.

And with that thought, you followed Yerim toward the team, ready to get these interviews over with…

As you wrapped up the interview with Minho, he wiped the sweat from his brow and flashed you a charming grin. The guy was a natural during interviews, confident and effortlessly likable. You thanked him for his time, making sure to capture one last shot of him before lowering your camera.

"Good luck this season," you said, trying to sound more professional and less like you’d been daydreaming about his girlfriend half the time. How unprofessional.

"Thanks," Minho replied, flashing a bright smile. "I’ll do my best not to disappoint."

As he turned to jog back to his teammates, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Joohyun walking toward the field. She moved with that same effortless grace, her hair shining under the late afternoon sun and was making a beeline for Minho, tiptoeing adorably to kiss his cheek.

Of course, you thought to yourself, trying not to make a face. They were dating. You knew this. Everyone knew this. Still, knowing it didn’t make the sight any easier to watch.

You couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. This wasn’t some romantic drama where a smile meant destiny was at play. No, this was just real life, and in real life, Joohyun didn’t even know your name.

“Come on, let’s head out,” Yerim called from a few feet away, waving her phone in the air. You nodded, following her lead.

As you both made your way off the field, a nagging thought wormed its way into your mind, the one you’d been trying to avoid all week.

Classes were starting next Monday, and with them came the embarrassing reality that you, a junior, would be sitting in Journalism 1 like a freshman.

It wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your academic journey. You’d planned to take Journalism 1 ages ago, but thanks to a mix-up in your scheduling during your first year, you’d ended up prioritizing other courses. By the time you realized the mistake, all the Journalism 1 sections were full.

So here you were, entering your junior year and still having to take an introductory class. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but the idea of sitting through lectures you probably could have passed two years ago was a little silly.

“Lost in thought again?” Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. She gave you a knowing look as you both reached the parking lot. “Let me guess, you’re freaking out about J1 again?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a shrug, trying to downplay it. “It’s just…I don’t know. I should be past all that by now.”

Yerim snorted, adjusting her sunglasses. “You’ll be fine. Besides, who cares? It’s just a class.”

“Yeah, but still,” you sighed. “It’s not exactly ideal.”

Yerim lightly slapped your shoulder, snorting off your concerns. “Don’t worry so much. You already have experience making stories for the school paper and radio. What’s an intro class with Professor Kim anyway? She loves you.”

You cracked a smile, recalling how you earned Professor Kim’s approval in Media Law and Ethics, which were two of the hardest classes within your program. “You’re right. It’s just an intro class.”

“Of course I am,” she said, holding her growling stomach. “Now, let’s go grab some food. I’m starving.”

Monday arrived with an unexpected sense of calm. You strolled across campus, your bag slung over your shoulder and a spring in your step. The weekend had been fun catching up with all your friends, and your first few classes that morning went better than expected.

But now, as you approached the door to Journalism 1, that confidence started to waver. You’d been riding high all day, but the reality of walking into a freshman-heavy class was suddenly weighing on you.

You paused outside the classroom, staring at the door. It was just a class. Just an hour, and then you’d be done for the day.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was already filling up with fresh faces. You scanned the rows of desks, looking for a spot where you could blend in. After a moment, you settled into a seat toward the back, hoping to go unnoticed.

As you pulled out your notebook and laptop, you caught snippets of conversations from the students around you. They were buzzing with excitement about writing for the school paper or getting their hands on some broadcast work. You smiled, remembering the time you had been as eager and wide-eyed.

The door swung open again, and you glanced up out of habit. When you saw who had walked in, your heart skipped a beat - Joohyun.

Your mind immediately went into overdrive. What was she doing here? This was just some intro class. Joohyun was a psych major. Surely she didn’t need to be here too. Yet, there she was, making her way into the room with that grace you admired from afar. She didn’t seem to notice you as she scanned the room for a seat.

You quickly ducked your head, pretending to be engrossed in your notes. The last thing you needed was for Joohyun to catch you staring. As fate would have it, she ended up sitting just a few rows ahead of you. Close enough that you couldn’t help but notice every time she shifted in her seat. Great.

The lecture began as Professor Kim walked in, her presence instantly commanding the room. You’d taken a few classes with her before, so you knew she was the type to keep things moving quickly. After a brief introduction, she jumped right into the syllabus.

“Welcome to Journalism 1,” Professor Kim began, her tone brisk. “I know some of you are here because you’re excited about journalism, some because it’s a requirement, and some because, well, you need the credits.” A few chuckles rippled through the room, and you allowed yourself a small smile.

She went on to explain the course structure—lectures, assignments, workshops—but it was when she reached the partner project that your attention fully snapped back.

“As part of this course, you’ll be working on a partner project,” Professor Kim announced, scanning the room. “This will be an opportunity to apply what you’re learning in a practical way. You’ll be paired in a few weeks, and I expect each team to produce a piece of journalism that could be print, broadcast, or multimedia. This counts as the final of this class so you will have the second half of the semester to work on it.”

You swallowed hard. Partner projects were always a bit of a gamble. It could mean working with someone who’d pull their weight, or it could mean babysitting.

“Now, before anyone panics,” Professor Kim continued with a faint smile, “I want to reassure you that I’m here to help, and so are your classmates. In fact, I see a familiar face in the crowd.” Her eyes landed on you, and you froze.

“Ah, yes, there you are,” Professor Kim said, her smile growing. “I’m sure many of you don’t know this yet, but we have a bit of an expert with us today. She’s done excellent work for the school newspaper and the college news station, and she excelled in my previous classes.” You felt your cheeks flush as several heads turned in your direction. So much for flying under the radar.

“So, if you have questions about storytelling, pitching ideas, or even how to juggle deadlines, don’t hesitate to ask her,” Professor Kim added, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “She’s a great resource.”

You managed a weak smile and a nod, trying to look like you weren’t about to melt into your chair. Inside, though, your nerves were high. Being called out like that was the last thing you’d expected. You’d wanted to blend in, not stand out, especially with Joohyun just a few rows ahead.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur, your mind racing with a mix of anxiety and curiosity. What if you ended up paired with Joohyun for the project? Like that would happen.

As Professor Kim wrapped up the class and dismissed everyone, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape. You slung you bag over your shoulder and made a beeline for the door, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters.

But as you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance back. Joohyun was still in the classroom, slowly packing her things. She didn’t seem to notice you at all, and for once, you were grateful. You needed time to figure out how you were going to navigate the rest of the semester…

The media center had always been your safe place, the place where you could bury yourself in work and forget about everything else. The familiar hum of activity filled the space as students shuffled between the school newspaper and the college radio station. The faint sound of music from the radio station’s booth mixed with the low murmur of conversations, and you felt your shoulders relax a little as you made your way to your usual spot near the back.

You practically lived here, spending countless hours on projects, hanging out with the news and radio staff. Today was no different, except for one thing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joohyun showing up in Journalism 1. You were halfway through editing some soundbites for the soccer team’s story when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Look who survived!" Yerim’s voice rang out, dripping with playful sarcasm. She plopped down into the chair next to you, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "How was J1 and how does it feel to be Professor Kim’s golden child?"

You groaned, regretting that you texted Yerim everything that happened and ran a hand through your hair. "Don’t remind me. I was trying to hide. Now everyone’s gonna think I’m some know-it-all."

Yerim snickered. "Please. Half those freshmen probably think you’re a TA or something. They’ll be asking you for help with their shit by the end of the week."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. "Just what I needed. More work."

"So, tell me," Yerim leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What’s this about Bae Joohyun being in your class? You nearly faint when you saw her?"

"Not quite," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. "But yeah, she’s in J1. No idea why, though."

Yerim raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Seriously? What’s she doing in intro courses? She’s like, Miss Campus Everything."

"That’s what I was wondering," you replied, mindlessly fiddling with a pen. "I didn’t get a chance to ask her, obviously. I figured she’d be in some psych courses, not sitting through the basics of journalism."

Yerim snorted. "Maybe she’s got a secret passion for headline writing. Or she’s just there to watch you squirm."

"Ha ha, very funny," you shot back, though the thought of Joohyun silently judging you made your stomach twist. "I’m just curious, okay? It’s not every day someone like her shows up like that."

Before Yerim could respond, a familiar face appeared in the doorway, Changmin, the station manager. He was juggling a stack of papers and his ever-present coffee mug, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. But despite his appearance, there was a warmth about him that made everyone feel welcome.

"Hey, Changmin!" Yerim called out, waving him over. "You got a minute?"

Changmin ambled over, setting his papers down on the nearest table. "Always got a minute for you two," he said, his voice tinged with that familiar fatherly tone he used whenever he spoke to his "media kids."

He took a sip of his coffee, looking at you both with kind eyes. "What’s on your minds?"

"We were just talking about Joohyun," Yerim said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "Apparently, she’s in J1 with this one." She pointed at you. "Any idea why she’s slumming it with us peasants?"

Changmin’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, and then he smiled, nodding as if something had clicked into place. "Ah, yes. She mentioned that to me last week when she stopped by the station. She’s minoring in broadcasting, so J1 is a requirement for her."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Broadcasting? Really?"

"Yup," He confirmed. "She’s got big plans, wants to do more on-air work and maybe even take on some anchoring for the morning news. She’s driven and looking to learn as much as she can."

"Wow, I’m down so bad," you groaned, feeling a mix of awe and admiration. What couldn’t this woman do?

Yerim patted your back, though you could hear the laughter in her voice. "Chill. You’re gonna be just fine. If anything, this is your chance to impress her with your charm and expertise. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up partners for that J1 project."

"Yeah, right," you muttered, though the idea made your heart race. “Knowing my luck, I’ll get paired with someone who doesn’t even show up to class.”

Changmin shook his head with a smile, gathering up his papers from the table. "Good luck with that. And hey, if you do end up working with her on that project, just be yourself. You’ve got plenty of experience to share, and she’s smart enough to appreciate that."

You felt a bit of the tension in your chest ease. Changmin had a way of making everything seem okay, like you could handle whatever came your way. "Thanks, Changmin. That… actually helps a lot."

“Anytime,” he smiled warmly, “Just remember - you’re here because you love what you do, and that passion is going to carry you through, no matter who’s in the class with you."

With that, he gave you both a reassuring nod and headed out the door, leaving you feeling more grounded than you had all day.

Yerim turned back to you, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "So, what’s the game plan now? You gonna impress her with your skills?"

"Or," you said, raising an eyebrow, "I could just try not to trip over my own feet in front of her."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Yerim teased. "But seriously, this could be your chance to show her what you’re made of."

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite the butterflies in your stomach. "We’ll see. I’m not even sure if she’s into girls like that. For now, I’m just gonna take it one class at a time."

Yerim grinned, giving you a mock salute. "That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need any tips on charming her, I’m always here."

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the soccer field. The air buzzed with anticipation as the men’s soccer team warmed up for their first game of the season against a visiting school. You were stationed near the sidelines, camera in hand, ready to capture the action for the upcoming story you were working on. This game would be a key piece of the puzzle, the team’s first real test of the season.

You adjusted your lens, focusing on Minho as he led the team through drills, his every move sharp and precise, though his gaze drifted to the stands every so often, like his mind was somewhere else. The team was hyped for the season, with high expectations from everyone around them. But your attention wasn’t fully on Minho or the players. No, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joohyun.

Ever since you found out she was in Journalism 1, you couldn’t stop wondering about her. And now, here you were again, on the same field where you’d seen her just last week, except this time, you knew a little more about her goals and ambitions. Broadcasting. It made perfect sense, really.

"Hey," Yerim’s voice broke through your thoughts as she appeared by your side, her usual teasing grin in place. "You’re not drooling over Minho, are you? Because that would make things even weirder."

You smirked, rolling your eyes. "As if. I’m just trying to get the perfect shot."

"Uh-huh," Yerim said, jokingly denying your response. She nudged you playfully with her elbow. "So, what’s the deal? Are you gonna make a move on Joohyun? Or are you still playing the long game?"

"I’m not playing anything," you sighed, adjusting your camera to focus on another player. "She has a boyfriend, and I’m not exactly keen on being a homewrecker."

"Well, you know what they say," Yerim wiggled her brows, leaning against the fence. "Never let your boyfriend get in the way of you finding your wife. Maybe you’ll get partnered up for the big project and bond over broadcasting."

You snorted. "Or I’ll just end up partnered with some random person."

"Optimism isn’t your strong suit, is it?" Yerim clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "You never know. Stranger things have happened."

Just then, the sound of laughter caught your attention. You glanced up from your camera and, unsurprisingly, saw Joohyun walking onto the field with the other cheerleaders. They were here to support the team, of course, and Joohyun looked as perfect as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she wore the red and white cheer uniform that seemed to hug her body so well.

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do whenever she was around, and you cursed yourself for it. This was getting sad.

Yerim followed your gaze, her grin widening. "Speak of the devil," she said, her tone practically singing. "Maybe she’ll come over here. Give you a chance to work that journalistic charm."

"Sure," you muttered, trying to refocus on the task at hand. "She’s here with her team to support the guys, duh."

But as fate would have it, Joohyun’s path did seem to be leading her closer to where you stood. She waved at a few friends as she made her way toward the sidelines, but then her eyes landed on you. For a brief moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. Should you wave? Smile? Pretend you hadn’t seen her at all?

Joohyun didn’t seem to have any hesitation, though. She gave you a small, polite smile and a nod as she passed by, her gaze lingering just a second longer than you expected. It wasn’t much - just a brief moment of acknowledgment - but it was enough to make you almost crazy.

Yerim nudged you again, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did you see that? She smiled at you! Oh my god, this is progress. We’re making moves!"

"Calm down," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "It was just a smile. She smiles at everyone at games."

"Yeah, but she smiled at you and I’m standing here like a snack," Yerim insisted, her grin widening. "That’s gotta mean something."

You shook your head, “You’re being delusional, Yerim.”

Before she could respond, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the scrimmage. The players took their positions on the field, and you quickly turned your attention back to your camera.

Throughout the game, you found yourself glancing over at Joohyun more than you intended to. Every time you tried to focus on the action on the field, your eyes betrayed you, drifting back to where she stood, cheering with that infectious enthusiasm. Her smile seemed to light up the entire stadium, brighter than the field lights themselves.

But then it happened. She caught you staring. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze collided with hers, and for a split second, you froze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. Joohyun met your eyes and gave you another smile, one that felt warm, but suddenly it made you feel exposed.

You quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your camera settings, but the embarrassment lingered. God, she probably thinks I’m a creep, you thought, mentally kicking yourself.

As the game wore on, you put those thoughts aside to focus on the story. By the time the final whistle blew, you were more relieved than anything. The match had been tense, and you were just glad it was over. The team celebrated their hard-fought win, and you lowered your camera, ready to pack up and call it a day.

But then, Minho had to pull his jersey over his face in celebration, revealing a perfectly toned set of abs and stealing the attention of his fangirls and fanboys. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Of course, he has abs, you thought, trying to suppress the mild envy creeping in

"Well, that was fun," Yerim said, stretching as she stood up. "So, what’s the plan now? You gonna stick around for interviews, or are we grabbing food?"

"I need to get a few more shots and talk to the coach about the game," you replied, packing up your gear. "But after that, food sounds good."

"Cool. I’ll wait for you by the bleachers," Yerim said, chucking up a peace sign. "Try not to let Joohyun distract you too much."

You rolled your eyes as she walked off, but you couldn’t help but smile…

You and Yerim walked across campus, the fliers in your hands feeling heavier with every step. The afternoon sun was sitting high in the sky, and you were starting to regret your life choices - mainly, why you agreed to this. Promoting the annual college radio event wasn’t exactly thrilling, especially knowing it had the energy of a retirement home bingo night.

"I still can’t believe you volunteered for this," Yerim said, holding up a flier like it was a tragic masterpiece. "No one ever shows up, except for a few lost freshmen."

You sighed, pinning another flier to the bulletin board outside the student center. "I know, but Changmin looked desperate. And I already feel guilty knowing it’ll probably be a flop, so I figured I’d help out."

Yerim gave you an exaggerated look of pity. "This is like going from your prime time slot to a 2 a.m. infomercial. What’s next, counting ceiling tiles in the library?"

"Maybe," you muttered. "At least it’d be quiet."

Yerim rolled her eyes and smirked. "You’re such an old lady."

You chuckled, knowing it was half-true. As you both made your way to the psychology department, where there were a few more pinboards, your attention suddenly caught on something or rather, someone.

Joohyun.

She was standing near the water fountain, refilling her water bottle, her calm, collected presence making your stomach do that fluttery thing again. The memory of the game popped back into your mind, specifically, the part where she caught you staring at her like a total creep. You’d been trying to shake off the embarrassment ever since.

Yerim noticed her too, and the familiar mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. "Hey, isn’t that your favorite cheerleader?" she whispered, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Now’s your chance. Go say hi."

You shot her an exasperated look. "Why would I do that? She probably doesn’t even know my name. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m the person who stared at you during the game’?"

Yerim smirked, clearly enjoying your inner turmoil. "Oh, come on. She’s probably forgotten all about it. Just go over there, act normal, and don’t bring up your little staring contest."

You sighed, trying to focus on the pinboard in front of you instead of the fact that Joohyun was literally ten feet away. "You’re making this sound easy."

"Well, if you’re not going to do it yourself, I’ll just have to help you along," Yerim said, and before you could protest, she not-so-subtly nudged you in Joohyun’s direction.

You stumbled forward, barely catching yourself as you nearly collided with Joohyun. She turned around just in time to see you regaining your balance, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Oh, sorry!" you blurted out, awkwardly clutching your stack of fliers. "I didn’t see you there."

Joohyun blinked, then offered you a polite smile. "That’s okay. It happens."

Yerim, who had positioned herself conveniently nearby, was failing miserably at pretending not to be entertained by the whole situation. You could feel her eyes boring into you, silently egging you on.

"Uh, how’s it going?" you asked, internally cringing at how generic that sounded.

"Good," Joohyun replied, her tone soft. She glanced at the fliers in your hands. "Hanging up fliers?"

"Yeah," you said, trying to sound casual. "Just helping out with some promotions. You know, the usual."

She nodded, her expression still neutral. There was a moment of silence, just long enough to make you start to sweat, before she offered you a small smile. "You’re always working hard, aren’t you?"

Your brain stalled. For a second, you weren’t sure you heard her right. Joohyun noticed you? You, the girl who had been trying to stay invisible this entire time? Your mouth went dry as your mind raced to come up with a response, something coherent at least, but all that came out was, “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Great. Really nailed it. You could practically feel Yerim’s second-hand embarrassment radiating from a few feet away, but Joohyun didn’t seem fazed. In fact, her smile lingered, like she was waiting for you to say more.

"I mean, I like staying busy," you added hastily, trying to recover. Your heart hammered in your chest as you searched her face for any sign of amusement or judgment, but all you saw was that same curiosity. It was unnerving, yet kind of thrilling.

“Well, it shows,” Joohyun said, giving a small nod before glancing at the stack of fliers in your hands. "Good luck with the event."

And just like that, she turned to leave, her water bottle in hand, leaving you standing there, gripping the fliers like a lifeline.

It took a second for your brain to catch up to the rest of your body, the interaction replaying in your mind on a loop. She noticed you. She thought you worked hard. You wanted to feel proud, but all you could focus on was the fact that Joohyun noticed you.

Behind you, Yerim’s muffled laughter broke through the haze of disbelief. "Oh my god, you should see yourself. You’re totally blushing!”

You tried to play it cool, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I-I’m not, the AC in here sucks," you mumbled, even though it was perfectly cool and ventilated throughout the building.

As you moved on to the next pinboard, you replayed the brief conversation with Joohyun in your mind, chastising yourself for every little mistake you made but also a little proud you didn’t spontaneously combust in front her. Well, a win is a win…

It had been a few weeks since you hung fliers in the psychology department, awkwardly bumping into Joohyun. Since then, your time in the media center had dwindled. Other students on the school paper were eager to get their hands on some sports stories, and you were more than happy to give them the reigns. Besides, the break gave you a chance to slow down and focus on other things like keeping up with your classes, helping your peers, and seeing Joohyun in Journalism 1 twice a week.

You couldn’t exactly say things had changed much between you and Joohyun. You still admired her from afar, barely making eye contact during class, and any passing interactions were short-lived. But today, Professor Kim was ramping things up with the partner project, and your mind buzzed with nerves and anticipation.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Professor Kim’s voice rang out, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You've all been building your skills over the last few weeks, and now it’s time to put them into practice with a partner project."

Your stomach twisted. The partner project? Already? You glanced around the room as a few students exchanged looks. This was going to be interesting.

“You and your partner will be interviewing each other,” Professor Kim continued, pacing at the front of the classroom. “Twenty minutes each, so forty minutes in total. I want you and your partner to find something newsworthy to report on based on your interviews. Whether it's a unique hobby, an unusual experience, or a surprising interest. You’ll need to research your partner beforehand. Stalk them a bit on social media, Google them, find out whatever you can. Then, write 8 to 10 questions for the interview which will be due by class next Monday, and next Wednesday there will be no class, so you have time to interview your partner.”

Your mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario, being paired with someone who didn’t care about the project. Or worse, being paired with Joohyun. You gulped at the thought.

“The final story will be collaborative," Professor Kim continued, "There are different requirements for the project depending on the medium of your choice - print, audio, or video, but the details of that are on the syllabus.”

Professor Kim then held up a small hat, clearly excited about what was coming next. “Half of you will tear out a piece of paper, write your name, and drop it into this hat. The other half will draw a name, announce it, and that will be your partner.”

The class groaned, but you could tell some people were excited. You, however, were trying to calculate the odds of not getting paired with Joohyun.

You watched as the first half of the class, including Joohyun, scribbled their names on pieces of paper and dropped them into the hat. You were in the second half, the group tasked with pulling names. As the hat slowly circled around the room, Professor Kim paused at each student to let them pick.

Your heart pounded harder with every name that was read aloud.

“Kim Minjeong.”

“Jung Jaehyun.”

“Jimin—oh, great…”

One by one, names were called out, and with each one, you felt a strange mixture of relief and rising panic. The hat finally made its way to you. Your hands were clammy as you reached in, fishing around until you grabbed a small slip of paper.

Please don’t be Joohyun, please don’t be Joohyun, you chanted in your head.

You opened the slip of paper.

“Bae… Joohyun.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You felt your stomach drop as the room went quiet. You could feel the eyes on you—mostly Yerim’s, though her smug face was nowhere to be seen—and you froze, struggling to keep your cool. When you finally glanced up, Joohyun was looking directly at you, her expression calm but curious.

You swallowed hard, trying to seem composed. You definitely didn’t feel composed.

Professor Kim smiled and nodded. “Great. Everyone else has their partners. Before you leave, I want you to exchange contact information, introduce yourselves, though I assume most of you already know each other, and plan a time to meet.”

You stayed seated for a moment, dreading the thought of standing up and walking over to Joohyun. But you had to do it. You have to be professional, you reminded yourself.

After taking a deep breath, you stood, your legs feeling a little shaky, and walked over to Joohyun’s desk, where she was quietly packing her things. She looked up as you approached, smiling shyly.

“H-hey,” you stammered, nerves kicking in as you awkwardly slid into the seat beside her. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Joohyun nodded with a cute smile. “Looks like it.”

“So, um… we should figure out when to meet for the interviews,” you said, trying to sound normal but feeling anything but with her watching you with bright eyes.

“Yeah,” Joohyun agreed easily. “How about next Wednesday? Or whenever works for you.”

You nodded a bit too quickly. “Sure, that works! I mean, Wednesday’s good for me.”

An awkward pause followed, and you could feel your heart racing as the silence stretched. Desperate to seem less weird, you pulled out your phone - only to fumble it like a hot potato, sending it flying onto the desk with a loud clatter. Joohyun burst out laughing, the sound completely unfiltered.

“Well,” she said moments later, her body shaking slightly with silent laughter, “at least I’m not the only one a little nervous about the project.”

You blinked, your cheeks burning. If only she knew it wasn’t the project making you nervous. “I—I guess we’re in this together,” you mumbled, feeling both embarrassed and relieved.

Joohyun’s smile softened as she picked up your phone and handed it back. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”

You thanked her quietly, your hands brushing for a brief second as you exchanged contact info. The awkward tension between you both started to fade, replaced by a sense of familiarity. Joohyun, despite her reputation, seemed just as shy by the end of class.

“See you next time,” she said gently, her eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah,” you replied, your heart still pounding. “See you.”

As you left the classroom, you pulled out your phone and shot Yerim a quick text.

You (2:33 pm): Guess what? Just got paired with Bae fucking Joohyun for the project.

Her response came back instantly.

Yerim (2:33 pm) ??? are you breathing ???

You nearly choked on a laugh, tucking your phone away. Maybe, just maybe, this project wouldn’t be so bad after all…

The hum of the café provided the perfect background noise as you tried to clear your mind. After a whirlwind week of classes, getting off campus was a much needed escape. The coffee shop you and Yerim had chosen was small, tucked away in a quiet corner of town, just the kind of spot you both liked.

You took a sip of your favorite coffee, the warmth calming your nerves, as you stared at the blank document on your laptop. Interview questions. That’s what you were supposed to be working on. The project with Joohyun was real now, and it was your job to research her and draft some thoughtful questions.

But professionalism wasn’t exactly what was on your mind.

You glanced around the café, making sure Yerim wasn’t paying attention. She was engrossed in her own laptop, typing furiously. Thinking the coast was clear, you pulled up Joohyun’s Instagram on your phone. You’d looked her up before, obviously. Long before this project was even a thing. But back then, her profile had been private. You’d debated sending her a follow request so many times, but always chickened out.

Now, though? You were following each other.

Joohyun had texted you a few days ago, asking for your social media handles. Just seeing her name pop up on your screen had made your heart skip a beat. Bae Joohyun. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine she was texting you for something more. But the excitement faded as soon as you saw her message—it was just about the project.

You sighed and pushed that memory aside as you scrolled through her feed. Her profile was clean, simple, and exactly what you’d expect. Lots of scenic shots, some sunsets, quiet moments in nature. There were a few selfies, where she looked effortlessly stunning, of course. Then, there were the photos of her with Minho.

They seemed happy. A handful of pictures together, tagged at restaurants and casual days out. That familiar twist of disappointment crept up.

"Looking up your new girlfriend, I see?" Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You fumbled, nearly dropping your phone. "What? No!"

Yerim raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Sure, sure. You’re not being very subtle here."

You groaned, putting your phone down. "It’s for the questions I have to come up with. And how many times do I have to remind you about her boyfriend?”

"Ah, yes, perfect Minho," Yerim said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "But you’ve got something too. Maybe not trophies, fame, and abs just yet but you’re a cutie who has a knack for chatting people up.”

You snorted, shaking your head. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Yerim grinned. "Anytime. But seriously, stop creeping on her Instagram and focus on your work, weirdo.”

You walked briskly across campus, your nerves fluttering as you neared the media center. Today was the interview with Joohyun, and while you’d snagged a cozy room filled with snacks and drinks to make things more comfortable, it was hard to shake the anxiety. Joohyun was your partner, and the idea of interviewing her still felt surreal.

Professor Kim’s constant reminder to “dress professionally” echoed in your mind as you tugged at the fitted oxford grey long-sleeve top you wore. The black slacks and boots completed the look, giving you an air of confidence you weren’t entirely sure you felt. Looking the part seemed to be half the battle.

As you approached the media center, you spotted Joohyun waiting by the room door, looking effortlessly composed in a black V-neck sweater tucked into sleek black pants, her low-heeled boots completing the outfit. If Steve Jobs had gone full-on fashion icon, it would be Joohyun. She looked like a young hot CEO of a multibillion-dollar company.

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your racing heart.

Just as you reached for the door, you heard Changmin’s voice behind you.

“Well, don’t you two look serious,” he said with a playful grin, his coffee mug firmly in hand.

Your face flushed instantly, caught off guard by his teasing. He shot you a knowing wink before heading off, leaving you feeling like he knew far more about your situation than you’d ever told him.

You quickly composed yourself and opened the door, motioning for Joohyun to go in first. “After you,” you said, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

“Thanks,” Joohyun replied, offering you a kind smile as she stepped inside.

You let out a small breath of relief as you followed her into the room, shutting the door behind you. The room was quiet, the snacks laid out neatly on the table, and you both settled in quickly, exchanging small talk on the way. Despite your best efforts to stay calm, Joohyun’s presence had you on edge. It wasn’t that you were inexperienced, you’d done countless interviews before, but interviewing her made it different.

After a minute of organizing your notes, you glanced at Joohyun and noticed something that surprised you. She was fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her fingers twisting the fabric, and she shifted in her seat. For someone who always seemed so poised, she looked nervous herself.

You hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, deciding to take a chance. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little… on edge.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not used to doing interviews, especially with someone who’s clearly experienced and really good at what they do.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “You’re nervous because of me?”

She nodded, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Yeah, kind of. You’ve done this a lot, and I’m still figuring things out. Plus, Professor Kim seems to think highly of you, so there’s a bit of pressure.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joohyun, the campus queen, nervous because of you? The thought was almost unreal, and yet here she was, feeling the same way you had when you first saw her name on the slip of paper.

You chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “Trust me, I’m still figuring things out too. Actually…” You hesitated for a second, nerves bubbling up as you decided whether or not to tell her the story. But seeing her this vulnerable made you want to take the chance. “If you’re up for it, I can tell you about the first time I interviewed someone.”

Joohyun looked intrigued, so you continued, even though the story still made you cringe a little. “It was for the school paper during my first year. I was interviewing one of the professors for a feature piece, and I was so nervous, but he reassured me that I wouldn’t do a bad job. So, I got comfortable eventually. We sat there for probably twenty minutes, and I thought I was being all professional, nodding along and asking good questions. Then I realized the recorder wasn’t even on.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward with a wide grin. “Oh god, what did you do?”

“I panicked,” you chuckled, feeling more relaxed now that she was laughing. “I didn’t want to ask him to do the whole thing again, so I tried to rely on my notes, but they were a mess. It was awful. So, I asked for another interview, but he wasn’t exactly enthused about it.”

Joohyun was laughing fully now, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s amazing. I would’ve died.”

“I almost did,” you said, joining in her laughter. “So, if I can survive that, you can survive this. Trust me.”

The tension between you eased as Joohyun relaxed, her shoulders no longer hunched and her fingers no longer fidgeting with her sweater. “Thanks for sharing that,” she said, still smiling. “I guess I was overthinking it.”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “You’re going to do great. And we’re just practicing, right? I’m here to help.”

The interview started smoothly after that. Joohyun’s answers were thoughtful and personal. She talked about psychology and why she was drawn to it, places she’s traveled, and how she balanced her academics with her extracurriculars. She mentioned how photography was a way for her to decompress, especially when she captured photos of the sky and nature, and how there was a small garden on campus that was her favorite spot to think.

By the time it was her turn to interview you, she was much more confident. Her questions were unpresumptuous and relevant. They were about why you chose journalism, what kept you motivated when things got tough, and what got you into photography yourself.

“I saw some of your nature shots,” Joohyun said, her voice thoughtful. “They seem to be mostly pictures taken on hiking trips, is that right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of a side hobby. It helps me clear my head.”

As she listened carefully to you, you could see her growing more comfortable in the journalist role. By the time the interview wrapped up, the room felt lighter, and you were both sighing with relief.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” you teased, packing up your notes.

Joohyun smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxed. “You’re really good at making people feel comfortable. I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. Then, realizing how it might sound, she quickly added, “Not that I didn’t think you could! I just didn’t expect it to be so… easy.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback by her sudden fluster. “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way at all,” you reassured her. “I’m just glad I could help. And honestly, you did really well too.”

At that, Joohyun’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she let out a small, relieved laugh.

As you both stood to leave, you held the door open for her again, and she glanced back at you with a grateful smile. “Thanks again. Really.”

You returned the gesture, feeling a warm sense of connection. “Anytime.”

As Joohyun walked out, you couldn’t help but feel that things had shifted slightly between you. It wasn’t just about the interview anymore…

After a discussion with Professor Kim and Changmin, you’d finally settled on the next direction of your soccer story. It wasn’t what you had originally planned, but both of them had made a compelling case. A feature on Minho. You’d dig into his struggles growing up and his rise through adversity. It would create the kind of emotional connection that any solid piece of journalism needed. The story wasn’t just solely about soccer anymore. It was the kind of personal journey that would resonate with the audience.

You knew it was great for your portfolio too. It was exactly the type of human-interest story that could set you apart when applying for future jobs. You agreed to it, even though the idea of digging deeper into Minho’s life, with your feelings for Joohyun lurking in the background, made you a little uncomfortable. You could handle this professionally though. You had to.

Later that day, after his practice with the soccer team, you spotted Minho chatting with some of his teammates near the field. Taking a deep breath, you approached him.

“Minho,” you called out, waving slightly as you approached.

He turned to you, a welcoming smile already in place. “Hey! What’s up?”

You adjusted your bag, feeling the weight of it on your shoulder as you tried to keep your tone casual. “I wanted to talk to you about a potential story for the school radio.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I was thinking about doing a feature on you. Something about you and not just soccer, how you’ve gotten to where you are now. I think it would be a really strong piece, but only if you’re up for it, of course.”

Minho’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. “Wow. I don’t know what to say… I mean, I’d be honored. But really? A story on me?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I think people would really connect with it.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded slowly. “If you think it’s a good idea, then I’m in.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Great. I’ll start pulling things together soon, and we can schedule some time for interviews.”

Minho smiled humbly, “Sounds good. Thanks for thinking of me. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you said, giving him a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

After getting his contact info, you met up with Yerim at a nearby bar, ready to drink away some of the tension that had been building all week. Three shots in, you were starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol loosening up your thoughts. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You saw Joohyun’s name, and your heart did its usual happy flip. You quickly swiped to read her message.

Joohyun (9:17 pm): Hey, when do you want to meet to go over what we should report on from our interviews? I was thinking we could talk about it next week?

You exhaled slowly, the thrill of seeing her name making you grin. Joohyun texting first? A miracle. Her message was all business, which was its own kind of reality check, but hey, she was the one messaging you, and right now, that felt like something.

You had thought about meeting her at one specific place, but that was sober you and you didn’t have the guts to ask. However, with a little liquid courage coursing through your veins, you typed back, smirking to yourself.

You (9:19 pm) Nxt week sounds good, but I have an idea.. wanna go to that boba place on main st. aftr class on monday?

Satisfied, you hit send and dropped the phone back into your pocket, telling yourself you were such a genius for thinking of a way to spend more time with Joohyun, completely unaware of the grave you were digging for yourself…

To be continued...

[vnamps]

THE GRADE AID. 001

next. |

overall summary: lee min-ho, your absolute academic rival, an absolute menace needs help to raise his grade before the semester ends, and who better to ask for help than you, the grade aid.

overall contents: minho is cocky, a bunch of teasing, angst, fights, mentions of injuries, good ending, lowercase

word count: 0.98k

lee minho, the school's most popular male, the son of a wealthy businessman, and your absolute rival in school. he was an absolute menace, someone who'd egg you on if you'd ever get even 1% less than him on tests, someone who didn't even have to make attempts to get a good grade, he was naturally smart and even if he wasn't, his father could still silver spoon him into good schools.

this same minho now sat at the table inside the chemistry lab, looking at his paper in pure horror. A big circular number on his paper read beside the percentage sign. and as if that hadn't been scary enough, the message below was even worse.

"I am disappointed in your efforts, mr. lee"

the words were intensely scary it was almost as if he could hear your voice saying it for some reason.

"zero? damn, that's harsh." he turned out to meet your face, peering over his shoulder with a grinning expression.

you made your way to a seat next to him, sighing loudly, reminiscent of all the times he did the same to you in a test.

"oh yeah? what'd you get?" he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

a smile appeared on your face as you slid your paper over to him, his eyes widening slightly but his overall expression the same.

one-hundred and twenty percent??

"I know you may be wondering, how does such a strong, intelligent, empathetic being get such a high score, minus the extra credit."

"I'm not wondering, I don't care." he was salty, you took note of that. you laughed a little to yourself as you felt victorious for once in your whole rivalry.

the whole rivalry started 3 years ago when you all got the exam results posted on a bulletin outside. whilst everyone raved on about how smart you were, minho felt jealous and decided he wanted to be smart as well

after that, minho would feel such high validation and get praise for being able to beat you in certain subjects, becoming the first topic when it comes to student intelligence.

It annoyed you. why would someone like him wanna take the one good thing you had? he had luxury, he had potential love interests, and he had a life made up for him. so why was it that he constantly felt the need to take away your progress?

it was a question both you and he constantly asked yourselves. one even jisung asked himself as minho ranted to him.

"they laughed in my face, jisung." minho emphasized as he rubbed his temples, sighing in disbelief.

jisung was scrolling through his phone, showing halfhearted sympathy as he lifted his head to look at minho. "well they're only giving you the same thing you give them." jisung reasoned which caused minho to sigh again.

as days passed, minho constantly saw a downgrade in his chemistry work, more messages filled with the word "disappointed". this went on for about 2 weeks before the teacher pulled him aside at the end of class.

"mr. lee" she starts off, peering up at him through her glasses before sighing and shaking her head.

he already knows what's to come as he approaches her desk, a worried look on his face.

"lately, I've been seeing some uh.. flaws in your work for the past few weeks and I've been a bit concerned." she brings out a slip of paper, handing it to him.

"this is a mini graph of your grades and how they can affect you going into college if you don't fix them.''

minho sighs, looking down for a second before lifting his head back up. "Is there any way I can fix them before the semester ends?"

her face lights up in a suggestive smile and minho feels the weights of his shoulders lift a little with hope.

"I like that you're not willing to give up, I'm proud of you," she states before bringing out folders filled with student applications.

"I have a few students who are doing exceptionally well in my classes and may be willing to help you." she opens the first folder, your picture is there as well as your tutor information. she lets out a small aha before showing minho.

"y/n l/n, they excel the most in my classes, I assume you'd know them?" minho's eyes widen once he sees the picture, a small sigh leaving his mouth as he looks away, muttering a small "yes''

"great! I'll get them to tutor you, starting tomorrow, the more time, the merrier"

as the day went on minho dreaded the fact you had to tutor him. he wished it was someone who liked him more, someone who'd guarantee his good grades.

the next day went by scarily fast as now he sat in the library, watching your figure make your way over to the table, an annoyed look on your face.

"do you intend on bothering me, lee?" your face was stern as you stared at him with widened eyes.

he sighed and rolled his eyes. "I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen you if I did."

you let out a harsh airy breath, setting your books on the table. "as if you couldn't have gotten a personal tutor instead of wasting my time. oh wait, I forgot you need daddy's money to afford that and of course, you wouldn't want daddy to think his little son wasn't perfect."

minho rolled his eyes once more. "right. if you're gonna keep talking instead of helping me, I'd be very happy to tell her that her perfect little ace isn't as generous as she believed" his head was tilted to the side, his eyes bleeding into you as he spoke.

you sighed in return, sitting down before opening the books, starting your first lesson.

[whoslaurapalmer]

twin peaks but it happens in 2010. laura palmer have iphone etc etc

this ask has been haunting me since i saw it last night oh my god okay okay so

i wanted to lead with laura being an influencer but no one was quite influencing in 2010 yet. but the point here being that i think she posts a lot online and cultivates her online image very carefully (very soft, carefree, excited teenager) and has a LOT of followers on everything and always gets a ton of likes. bc it's laura, she's so beautiful and special and popular, of course everyone is following her, of course everyone is liking all her posts to get a piece of her

she has a twitter (laurapalmer93) where she posts a lot of pictures with little captions like.......'morning donuts at the diner!!' with a picture of the donuts and a milkshake or a Coffee To Be An Adult, 'can you believe this guy? <3' with a picture of bobby making a face (or even.........dare i say it...........doing the dougie), a picture of donna and james with '<33333333' (modern emojis were just getting really big then but i myself was not a big emoji user in 2010 yet, so neither is laura), 'don't tell ;)' with a picture of her holding a cigarette (of course everyone still smokes in the high school bathrooms).

one time she gets away with posting the lyrics to if i die young by the band perry (IF I DIE YOUNG! BURY ME IN SATIN! LAY ME DOWN ON A BED OF ROSES!) (FUNNY WHEN YOU'RE DEAD HOW PEOPLE START LISTENING!) bc it's a popular song. it raises a few eyebrows but it's a song and it's laura. how seriously do you take teen angst, even among your friends? that's just what laura does. what's there to really worry about, huh? (the song was released in may 2010 but let's say the lead up to her death is in 2010)

on facebook she posts a lot of volunteer stuff. school dance photos, which she helps organize. buy some cookies to support the french club!! she's very involved with student council, and she organizes the group halloween costume. her facebook is filled with photos of her with other people, but not really any of just her. she doesn't post a lot of statuses, but they're usually about homework or tests or 'feels like summer!' towards the end of the school year. she's friends with her parents. she definitely takes ap classes.

she has a private vent twitter (lostinthewoods) with zero followers that she uses as a diary bc she thinks it'll be safer than having it physically written down. her childhood lisa frank diary with the tiny lock and glitter gel pens that she kept in her bed post went missing, after all. her vent twitter is filled with sooooooo many tweets bc this was still the 160 character limit days and she would just post and post and post especially late at night. (she definitely has string lights in her room.) she is a MASTER of using her phone with no one seeing -- she has the layout absolutely memorized. she was only caught texting in class once and of course the teacher let it go.

bob/leland finds her passwords and breaks into the vent twitter and leaves her horrifying tweets she sees later, instead of the back and forth they have in the diary and leland ripping the pages out.

i think she has a third twitter, for sex, but i'm not sure if that tracks for the time period? (snapchat wasn't a thing until fall 2011.) or like a forum sort of thing? i think it's still super easy for laura to sneak out, even in an increased security camera world. there's still a lot of stress on the, yknow, ~secret unexposed underbelly of the world especially in a time of more eyes on everything~ in the 2010s.

meanwhile, james posts music a lot on facebook, and also acoustic covers of songs. like. yknow. HEY SOUL SISTER. donna loves the original pusheen stickers. they record the picnic video on her flip video camera. mike loves icanhascheezburger, and he jailbreaks his phone. audrey gets really into audrey hepburn quote posting, Aesthetic France, black and white photos, berets, has a photography phase and carries and actual camera bc it's Vintage. she's an early tumblr user. no one else in school has a tumblr yet, so she feels very cool but also very lonely about it.

harry has very little understanding of social media, however cooper is very into all social media, he finds it delightful. he enjoys a good cat video. he looks through all of laura's photos, her tweets, facebook videos, and i think there's, honestly even more of a feeling of tragedy bc of how much more physical evidence there is available of laura's life, lingering fingerprints, last tweets, last posts, passwords to put in and information to see, cold blue computer light, the even worse voyeurism in people expecting so much of your life to be online, in watching it play out online, in the image laura created for herself online to be the person people expected

donna rereads laura's twitter in the dead of night, just over and over again. goes back through their texts. so much of grief has become so much more public with social media and using it as a teenager, and there's this back and forth in donna of not posting anything and then posting the most miserable statuses about losing her best friend.

i know i should get deeper into the investigation but i keep thinking instead of how laura definitely gets a 20/20 special. it's probably definitely called 'the secret life of the american teenager.' (bc there was that show on at the time with the same name) elizabeth vargas visits twin peaks, is appropriately grim, there's a lot of b roll of the town and the woods but without the grace of twin peaks' cinematography. they play up the creation of a narrative big, as they always do on 20/20. the revelation of her 'double life' is at the halfway mark and simultaneously not discussed enough and overestimated. 'laura palmer was your average, everyday teenager -- she liked horses. cats. she got good grades, was homecoming queen, had a boyfriend on the football team. she volunteered on weekends. she had her whole life ahead of her. or was there more to the story than anyone knew? was there a dark side to the all-american girl?' oh, it's agonizing. the trailers play up a lot of potential spooky woods stuff that isn't followed through on in the actual episode.

now 20/20 prides itself on getting the story right, so i feel like it's.........i feel like they have to say it's leland at the end (and they definitely never get into anything about bob). but i also think, for some reason, it could easily have a 'we never found the killer' ending. especially re: s3........the thing is, i feel like laura's death particularly is the kind of thing that shows up on 20/20, but the rest of the circumstances would've ended up on like the unsolved mysteries website (the last revival ended in 2010, before the netflix reboot in 2019) (especially with WELL OUR FBI AGENT WENT MISSING). and there's so much online to put together in a website about it, there's so much for people online to dig into who have never even been to twin peaks, to think they know a town and the people in it and the girl who died even if it's just literally THE MOST DISGUSTING VOYEURISM IN THE WHOLE WORLD i just think there's such a. horror in that. people have the most, just, enraging takes when they get involved in a Murder That Happened Somewhere Else. people thinking they alone can figure out a mystery they've never seen, they can of course see something no one else has. and it's different than the people in the town ignoring it -- i think a lot of the secrets in twin peaks stay the same, no matter the time period, so of course it's still, a terrible dying town killing the people in it, maybe even quieter than it is in the original, some new infrastructure but old buildings, not all of them occupied anymore, ANYWAY -- like of course yes people in the town ignore the same amount they did in the original, all small towns bury things. but just bc the town itself isn't paying attention doesn't mean that some rando online is going to know more, no matter how much they think they will. there's like an entitlement to details of a murder, an I Must Be The Hero, The Savior, bc i'm on a fucking reddit thread about it

now i have zero (0) idea of how medical science and forensics work, but i have to assume there have been some advancements in the field between 1989/1990 and 2010/2011. the town still rushes the funeral, but would albert have been able to find anything else sooner? what is it he would have found to point to leland sooner? oh........dna testing, maybe? would he be able to find out about leland right away? there's more of a sense of urgency, maybe less of a slowness between events, even more of a shattering horror. maybe leland goes missing in an attempt to cover things up. hmmmmmm.

final note -- cooper gets called mulder as a nickname bc the x files happened as a show in this universe.

[demontonic]

Could you possibly do a WandaNat x FEM daughter reader where reader comes home with bruises from being bullied and tries to hide them but fails? And also that the reader is being cyberbullied please? Thank you!

Mothers Know Best

WandaNat x GN!Reader Mothers Know Best

WandaNat

tw: bullying

word count: 845

The air seemed to still once you entered your home, your legs sore and beaten as well as your hair tangled and ratty. You make a feeble attempt to smooth your hair down in the mirror by the front door, anyone who knows you however could tell you were shaken. Your arms were scratched all the up to your elbows from when you shielded your face. Mama Nat always suggested that she teach you basic combat to which Mother Wanda always declined. They both wanted to give you a normal household, keeping their abilities to a minimum to ensure regular development. In hindsight as Wanda begins to feel your overwhelming emotions, she starts to doubt her decisions.

Quietly sitting in your room, changed into a shirt with long sleeves and pj shorts, you try to process everything. Why has it always been so hard? Why was it always you? What was wrong with you? When would you stop feeling like this? Would you stop feeling like this?

“Of course you will love.” That sweet voice that had always been there when the monsters felt too real, or when you fell and hurt your shins. Her red hair came into view and the smell of vanilla and everything sweet filled your senses. You’re old enough to know about their enhancements without babbling on to everyone. Of course sometimes you hated the mind reading, but when you couldn’t face up to reality like now, it was a godsend.

“Just mean kids, a bad day, long walk home… I’m okay.” Lying right in front of Wanda was a stupid decision for anyone who dared. So when her hands grabbed your wrist and pulled your sleeve back you simply trembled. No argument or excuses to be made once her eyes zeroed in on the damage done to her precious baby.

“Who the fuck layed hands on you?” A voice you grew to both fear and respect rang like alarms in your ears. Your eyes catching on Nat’s fierce emerald pair, dread filling your stomach.

“I fell on my shortcut thr-“

“Through the creek.”

“Through the creek.”

Clearly they were tired of you defending your assaulters, it was common now. You believed that if you stopped caring they’d pick on someone who would give a reaction. Now being halfway through the school year your Moms have decided otherwise.

“Is that why you cry after getting phone calls? Are they bothering you at home now?”

“I don’t know who makes the-“

“You know the group who’s capable, that’s enough for me.” Nat took a seat behind you, cleaning off the thin scratches with a warm damp towel. Wanda sat in silence, hearing your mind race a thousand miles an hour. Her fingers brushed over your legs as she began to notice bruises, both old and some still forming.

“Tell us what happened, you know I don’t like forcing this information out of you.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“I either hack into the accounts that contact you and find their addresses, Wanda reads your mind, or you can tell us what happened.” Nat’s voice was stern, you could hear it falter as she tried to remain gentle but she succumbed to her instincts.

“It was a group of people from my art class, the teacher really likes my art so everyone calls me a teacher's pet. It only got worse when they found out I’m adopted. Today was just out of nowhere, I didn’t know they were following me. They kicked at my legs and shoved me into the bushes. That's why there’s… so much.” You ended with a hushed voice, gesturing to the visible marks.

“Those children are just that, children. They’re far less intelligent than you, emotionally and intellectually, you are different and they don’t like that.” Wanda brushed hair out of your face in order to lock eyes with you, cementing every syllable that came out of her mouth.

“So don’t let them work you up this much kid, in a few years you’ll laugh at them because they’re stuck working in fast food places.” Nat rested her hand on your shoulder while offering you a kind smile. You loved these moments, relished in them to be exact. You felt safe within their presence because you knew they’d do anything to maintain your happiness.

“You’re right, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it like that before.”

“Sometimes you just get caught up in the moment, just know that we’re always here for you- and! We love you, always.”

“Always.” Nat added as she kissed your forehead before standing and heading towards the door.

“Now I made some really good cookies that should be ravished while they’re still warm.” The three of you smiled as you followed Nat into the kitchen, the evening following as normal. A snack, tv shows, dinner and a movie. Tonight however Natasha and Wanda spent a few minutes finding the parents of these kids to make sure you’d never have to deal with them again.

I know it’s really short however I thought it best to keep this as like a drabble/scenario. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this cute little work, I am hopeing to produce better pieces in the very near future! In the meantime please do not be afraid to send requests and look through my masterlist!

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

That gif you just posted of Callum in his white shirt gave me an idea:

Modern day AU, Gale is a freshman in university and he signs up for an online tutor. The tutor is John, a TA at another university. They meet twice a week over zoom but as the year goes on it turns from just tutoring to talking about their lives and backgrounds, dreams, etc. John gives Gale his personal number which is against rules but it's fine and soon they start texting about everything.

One late night the texting turns a little spicy. Then the next night a whole lot spicy. And it's just innocent fun, right? Yeah it's technically teacherish and student, but not at the same school and they're literally never going to meet, they don't even know what state the other person is in.

Except one day Gales normal literature TA is sick and the other classes TA fills in for him. It's John. Turns out that they are not only in the same state, but the same school.

He's taking the register and their eyes meet and suddenly there's a lot to talk about.

Oh mylanta 👀 Need this in my life now 🙌

In the states we sometimes have a university that is like a parent university to another, where it’s same system but totally different schools, mascots, rules, traditions… etc. and that’s what I’m picturing for them here. Also, if my tutor looked like Callum in those gifs, my grades would get worse not better because I would be so distracted 🤣

Anyways… perfectionist science nerd Gale who is making a B which gives him hives in some freshman level required course (his grade is so “bad” because he has zero interest in the subject… we’ll go with English for shits and giggles) so he signs up for the tutoring and at first John is like “??? You’re making an 88, why are you in tutoring?” and Gale exasperated is like “Because I’m making an 88, what are you missing here???”

Once they get over that initial misunderstanding though, they are smitten. Gale is enamored with the hot graduate level lit major in his cozy collared long sleeves and John is bewitched by the cute little freshman physics major with his soft sweaters and round glasses. They’re so different but they find they can talk about anything and everything and spend half of their tutoring sessions just talking.

I’m gonna go with they actually go to schools about 5 hours away from each other because I think they would discuss it at some point.

Gale is taken the fuck out when John reads from his personal copy of whatever assigned reading Gale has because there were no copies left at the library. Dealer’s choice which book it is, but basically Gale is so down bad after that Marge is concerned for his health and wellness because obsession like this can’t be healthy, especially not over a dorky ass Lit tutor.

Then they exchange phone numbers and they’re always texting, FaceTiming, sending each other TikTok’s and reels (they won’t follow each other on social media for plausible deniability since this is all very much against the rules). It’s always a little flirty but never crosses any lines until one night Gale sends a picture of himself curled up all cozy with his copy of the latest assigned reading and some tea and gets back a shirtless pic of John at the gym.

It’s all downhill from there because Gale was not aware that dorky ass John was an absolute unit like that and he was already in love but damn. The pictures and texts get saucier until Gale finds a vintage Yankees jersey at the thrift store and take a picture in it for John with just underwear underneath (it wasn’t meant to start anything, really, Gale just meant it to be flirty) and John goes in with a pic of himself hard in his underwear because he might just marry this one if he can figure out how to not get in trouble for everything that’s already been going on.

It turns into full on sexting and it keeps happening and escalates into phone sex until it truly gets out of hand and during one of their scheduled tutoring sessions (yes, they’re still doing those even though Gale is now making a 99 in his latest required English course) Gale mentions how hot it would be if John was actually his professor and they end up talking each other through teacher-student fantasies and getting off during their designated tutor times. They make a pact to keep tutoring, tutoring moving forward.

It’s not all about sex though, they have little FaceTime dates, they talk about the dates they would have if they lived closer. They talk about their hopes and dreams their fears and pasts… they are in love your honor.

John mentions transferring at the end of the spring semester to study under a professor that fits his research focus (don’t come for me, idk how MA’s so I’m taking on an MS approach lol) but doesn’t really bring it up again or say which school. Gale’s taking summer classes because he is a freak and trying to get through undergrad as quickly as possible.

Imagine his surprise when he shows up for his British literature course (he’s now minoring in literature despite his advisors insistence that it’s unnecessary stress) and the TA who will be teaching 50% of the classes is John fucking Egan. Gale waits after and gets dragged into what looks like a closet with a desk (it’s the shared TA office) and gets kissed within an inch of his life. There is zero discussion about whether or not they should be doing this (they shouldn’t, John could get fired and lose his grant and all kinds of other terrible stuff), just how they’re gonna keep this under wraps because they’re well aware they’re not gonna be able to stay away from each other.

I’m gonna go with, they almost get caught a couple of times (they definitely fuck in that tiny TA office more than once) and when John is no longer his TA and they come out as a couple they get some hard side eyes, but that they never truly get caught and they end up living happily ever after and they never quite get over that teacher-student fantasy 😉

[heeheesang]

ₕᵢgₕ ₛcₕₒₒₗ cᵣᵤₛₕ! ₗₑₑ ₕₑₑ ₛₑᵤₙg.

nine -> problems. ( written + text )

“and that was out last topic for the day! you did such a great job learning today, pretty girl. i’m proud of you!” jay smiles sweetly at me as he helps me sort out my items in my bag. “thank you for teaching me, jay! i had a great time learning with you, see you next session?” he nods and packs his items too.

“are you going home alone?” jay asks as we walk out of the library together, he was close to my shoulder, almost zero space between us as we walk side by side. “ah no.. heeseung’s walking back with me. he always waits for me.” i said and moved a little further away to create some space between us.

“alright then, i’ll see you in class tomorrow! goodbye ynnie, get home safely.” jay waved at me and i waved back as i sat on the swing in school. weird that heeseung wasn’t here, he would usually wait here or he would at least place his bag here to let me know he was there. a few minutes went past and it was getting cold, not long later it started pouring and i was drenched in rainwater.

ring ring… ring ring…

heeseung? i picked up the call.

“heeseung?”

“ynnie, where are you?”

“i was at the swing then i moved to the cafeteria, where are you?”

“i was getting my motor bike, it started raining so we can’t walk home today, i’m sorry princess.”

“hey it’s fine.. i’ll come up to you right now, i’ll see you at the gates?”

“i’ll be right here princess.”

i hung up the phone as blush tinted my cheeks, i could never get tired of him calling me princess. something about him just calling me princess makes my heart flutter and have a ride or a themepark in my heart. once i saw heeseung from afar, his arms were wide open and i ran towards him, almost slipping at the end but he caught me and we both hugged each other tightly.

“careful there, princess. wouldn’t want you to miss your performance because of an injury.” heeseung giggled as he lifted me off the floor and hugged me even tighter, “we haven’t seen each other for a day yet you’re acting like we haven’t met in years.” i giggled and blushed as he placed a soft peck on my forehead, “still, you’ll love me either way. now c’mon, let’s get you home before hoon yells at me hm?”

as soon as he started his bike, he reminded me, “hold on tight princess,” taking my arms and wrapping his around his body, which i obviously complied to and hugged his back the whole ride home.

the ride home was very smoothing, with rain, with wind, with heeseung. i like heeseung, the way he acts towards me, they way he helps me with everything, the way he would do anything for me, the way he’s so caring, friendly, loving and kind. he was really the perfect guy, all in one package if you ask me.

“anddd we have arrived!” heeseung said, parking his bike and taking his helmet off, “are you asleep, princess?” i quickly closed my eyes, pretending to sleep as he giggled, “how cute.”

he was very cautious in moving so he wouldn’t ‘wake’ me up, he took off my helmet and carried me bridal style into the house. “we’re home, sunghoon!” heeseung yelled as i felt him sitting down, maybe on the couch?

“heeseung! where’s yn— aw she’s asleep?” “yeah.. and she’s soaking wet from the rain. i’ll put her in her room so she won’t wet the couch, i don’t wanna trouble you, hoon.”

not a minute later, i was picked up again and placed on a soft, fluffy, bouncy matress. a blanket was put over the lower half of my body as my hair was oushed off my face, “sleep well my little princess. i love you,”

masterlist | back | next

taglist! @haechansbbg @saranghaohoshi @rosas-in-the-garden @yourssincerely-mimi @dimplewonie @jwnghyuns

hhs’ notes! i’m sorry if it seems confusing😭 so we have jealous hee and emo yn entering the story👀, i promise it’ll all work out in the end!! as always, thankyou for reading and supporting this smau~ i love you all, here’s a rose! 🌷💘

[hylkun]

★ highschool crushes ateez

ot8 x gn!reader . 0.8k . fluff/romance . highschool!au . lower case intended .

seonghwa is known by practically the whole campus — the main reason being his looks. every year when valentine’s day came around it wasn’t a surprise to see seonghwa’s desk full of letters, chocolates, gifts and all sorts of things. however he never read a letter, ate a chocolate or kept a gift. he threw each of them away once the day was over, because he only had eyes for you. the next valentine’s day, you found a pink letter on your desk decorated with stickers and doodles, and a candy bar beside it. there was a note, that read: “happy valentine’s day. wanna be mine? - p.s.”

hongjoong is the class president, the only student who manages to get everyone in order because they found him intimidating. he observed that he never had to speak to you about behaving or lowering down because, well, you were always in your own world. hongjoong grew to like you since it was one less student he had to deal with daily. later, he found out that he didn’t just like you because of your well mannered behavior, but also your personality. but it took him weeks to ask you out because he could never find the courage to.

yunho decided to tryout for the school’s volleyball team, since he needed some type of extracurricular activity on his record to get into a good college. during tryouts you just so happened to be walking by the court and as yunho hit the ball with the palm of his hand it shot right towards you and struck you in the face, causing you to lose consciousness. like the gentleman he is he carried you to the infirmary and waited for you to awake so he could formally apologize to you. but when you did, he found himself stumbling all over his words. the next day, you found a note from yunho on your desk. “sorry again! call me xxx-xxx-xxxx.”

yeosang doesn’t talk much and is mostly seen in the library reading. you are somewhat similar to him and also spend your free time in the library. one day yeosang heard that the new volume of his favorite novel, “Imagine us in Heaven” had been added to the library and scurried to read it. but he never knew that you had also peeked an interest in the novel and the both of you grabbed for the book at the same time. “oh, i’m sorry. do you want to read it first?” yeosang couldn’t help but feel his heart race at the fact there was someone who was a fan of this novel too. by the end of the day you were joined by the hip and ranting about the book.

san, the captain of the school’s national football team. everywhere he goes girls ogle and drool over him. many wish to be with him but he’s rejected so many that he’s started to lose count. unfortunately you were also one of those people who were rejected by him. “i’m sorry, i don’t feel the same way about you,” he said. he told himself he had absolutely zero feelings for you but the next day when he saw you laughing so sweetly with his classmates his blood boiled a little too much..

no one has ever heard mingi talk unless a teacher had called upon him or someone spoke to him first which was rare. during math class he wasn’t expecting anyone to voluntarily sit beside him, until you did. he was surprised that someone would want to sit with him, let alone start a conversation. although he never responded to you you kept the conversation going which made his heart swell. he felt an emptiness when the ball rang and you had to leave. hopefully tomorrow, he could find the courage to sit with you.

everyone found wooyoung intimidating, to the point where people would make a path in the hallway to make ample space for him to walk by. you were also part of this majority that never dared to walk within a foot’s radius of wooyoung, until you lost a bet with your friends and had to go up and start a conversation with him. once you stood in front him and he acknowledged you you could feel your heart rate quickening and beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. “hi, i’m (name). wanna be my friend?” you internally cringed at the sentence that left your mouth but, you were even more shocked when he agreed.

jongho was your seatmate but he’d never talk to you. you tried purposely dropping your belongings so he’d hand them to you, asking him for help when you knew the answers very well and even asking him if he needed help. but outside of class, he never spoke to you. until one day you asked him for assistance for the umpteenth time. “so, if you multiply that 3 times by itself that’s your answer.” you smiled happily at him although you already knew the formula. “you’re really smart, y’know that?” jongho only nodded but he couldn’t help but blush uncontrollably.

[lightofraye]

Keep fighting the good fight!

I just wanted to comment on a few things:

1.) Every single time Danneel touched Jensen during the WCC panel, he immediately and significantly leaned away.

2.) In the infamous photo of Jensen, Danneel, and their friends (taken while they were dating in the late aughts), Jensen is heavily leaning away from Danneel. He is fully embracing the person next to him, making no active contact with Danneel. She, on the other hand, is plastered onto him from face to thighs, and shoving her hand up his shirts (so much so that his stomach is exposed). Also in that photo, in the back, on the opposite side? Riley. I would love to hear your analysis of that photo, and what you think about that whole messy situation.

I have personally speculated that one of the reasons Jensen initially stayed with Danneel was to save face after detonating a bomb in their social circle. They had to prove that they were really “in love” to justify and excuse the affair. From there, I think social pressure and apathy doomed him into marriage - and I think he’s too “old-school” to divorce her without major cause. They’ll probably be together until he actually catches her in bed with Steve. 🤷‍♀️

Hiiiiii!

Sorry it took me this long to get back to you!

Life happened and I wanted to know if you were okay with your name out there.

That said....

First, thank you SO much for the compliment! I super-appreciate it!

Comment away! I like discussing things!

1) YES! Even when she did that rather overly aggressive shove-pat and claimed to be joking, he turned away from her.

2) I know exactly what photo you're talking about! I can't find it right now but I know which one you mean! She was being overly possessive and clingy, as if to go "See? This is my man!" My lord, woman, show some class and dignity!

I'm told that photo was taken after they married--I believe--and by then they were doing a kind of WB/CW promo thing. Jensen and Riley are clearly professional enough to behave themselves, thankfully.

But I could tell Jensen was tense and not at all comfortable that Danneel was behaving in such a manner. She's always possessive and insecure, even now, which is a damned shame. True confidence stems from inside, not what they're wearing (that had been her answer once, when asked).

So… the timeline of when they got together and how varies because apparently it's hard to keep accurate information. Plus Danneel hired some company or other to scrub a lot of her bullshit off the internet. Thus a lot of her older mean girl tweets are gone.

That said… this is more or less accurate. Jensen was supposedly already broken up from his girlfriend. Danneel was not broken up from Riley. Supposedly they knew each other back from when Jensen helped make the Plight of Clownana. (I watched it on YouTube; it's hilarious.)

Fast forward a few years and Jensen and Danneel meet up again in the making of Ten Inch Hero. Jensen liked to amend years later in conventions that they fell for each other during the commute to filming, and even claimed once that he wrote her a note saying "Not now, someday."

(I believe that note thing is false, because it was brought up so many years later and not during the initial telling back when it happened. Plus, Danneel never brought it up during the Drama Queen podcast despite Jensen claiming she kept it--Danneel stated the only paper thing she kept was the birthday card from Hilarie.)

The problem is… you could tell even during their dating photos, their post-engagement photos and even during their freaking wedding… there was zero chemistry. Zero interest. Danneel was possessive, yes, but affectionate? No. It's even worse from Jensen to her--withdrawn, stiff. He used to be comfortable with PDA before her. Since they started dating then married, it's been bad. He's just not comfortable at all.

Last year at Crossroads, that kiss was painful. He was pulling away and she was forcing him.

Wales Comic Con opened some eyes and it's encouraging. It's not "cute" or "banter" or anything. Not when he actually put himself down and she didn't reassure him. Not once.

So to your theory as to one of the reasons Jensen stayed with Danneel. It's entirely possible… but they were going on 2-3 years of dating and it was only when Jared proposed to Genevieve that Jensen was given the ultimatum--lock her down or she was going to split.

Given it was barely weeks after Jared proposed, I can't help but wonder if Danneel made that threat at all because she felt in competition against Genevieve. She has been for a very long time.

Of course, there was no way Danneel was going to break it off with her money ticket. Ahem.

I do agree social pressure doomed him into the marriage. From the persistent gay rumors (poor guy had been dogged by them since Days of Our Lives) to his father's very harsh expectations… Jensen was in a no-win situation. Maybe he felt Danneel was "good enough" back then.

Then once the ring was on that finger, everything changed.

There's a reason why he says their marriage works better when they're apart--which, honestly, isn't a marriage at all.

So… will he ever divorce her? That is the million dollar question.

From my speculations of the abuse he's under and how hard it is for a victim to break free from that to other possible reasons why he may still stay with her… we can't know. We just don't know.

However, I hope he does. He seems happier, healthier, away from her. A relationship should be a foundation in which to build a good life; not one that drains you.

Thanks for the message. I really appreciate it and your patience.

[sivavakkiyar]

Sakai is coming up a lot more recently on here so I’d like to bring up a passage from his interview ‘when race burns class’:

A number of years ago, i was trying to help a group of young Chinese-American activists on an anti-racist campaign. This was an interesting case of how a pure "race" issue only fronted for class politics. Now, these folks were "paper Maoists" in every worst way you could think of – and all my friends know that i'm someone who has warm feelings for the old Chairman. Not only did they have what Mao once called "invincible ignorance", but were also arrogantly full of Han nationalism. They did have physical courage, at least. Their project was to protest the sports racism in the famous industrial town of Pekin, Illinois – which was originally named in the 19th century after Beijing, and whose high school sports teams were colorfully named "the Chinks"! (capitalism, what an ever-amazing civilization – what next? "Auschwitz! The Perfume!" ).

Every week a few carloads of young Asian protesters would arrive in Pekin to picket the high school and city hall, hold television news conferences, and keep the issue simmering in the news. You see, the small flaw in the campaign was that all the protesters had to be imported from New York and Chicago. There were only eight Chinese families in town, and all were refusing to have anything to do with the anti-"Chinks" campaign (not wanting to lose their livelihoods, homes, and be driven out of town by the controversy).

By accident, not in any political way, i had casually met two vaguely liberal young white guys there. One was a teacher in that very high school. The second was a UAW (United Auto Workers union) shop steward at the nearby giant Caterpillar tractor assembly plant, which was Pekin's main industry. So i thought maybe they could be persuaded to get some local people to take a moderate wishy-washy public stand, anything just to give the Chinese families some local community cover if they wanted to speak out (there was zero local support of any kind, including all the unions and churches of course).

When i suggested it to this Maoist group, there was a moment's startled stony silence. Then the leader barked, "We do not work with white people!" Discussion over. So, is this a good example of that error of "racial issues taking precedence over class issues"? i know some radicals might think that, but they'd just be getting faked out.

First off, to those activists running it, "race" was not what was central to their thinking. After all, if those Asian American dudes had really been into either "race" or anti-racism they might have started by organizing and working with the local Asian families. They might have tried to help find some survival strategy for these families, who couldn't just drive off into the sunset after each press conference (being an isolated Asian family in a heavy white racist scene is no joke, obviously). This is just a normal problem in anti-racist work, which folks had to deal with all the time in small towns in 1960s Mississippi, for instance.

It also wasn't true that those Chinese-American leftists "didn't work with white people". They did that all the time, when they wanted, and these Han nationalists even argued for the "revolutionary" nature of the white working class . What i came to realize was in that situation they didn't want any broad community support for the Chinese families there, or to let others into "their" issue. Because they had a really different agenda. Which was to get sole public credit for this and other anti-racist issues, so that their little Maoist "party" could vault into political dominance over the Chinese-American communities. Later, when they thought it necessary, they even used physical violence and death threats to drive other Asian groups away. They intended to be the people in ethnic power, in effect like replacing the tongs . These "paper Maoists" had a pure class agenda, all right, only it was a bourgeois agenda. Although they themselves might have honestly believed what they did was "revolutionary", they had anti -working class politics hidden by "anti racism" and left people of color talk.

And this Maoist group really did get their Andy Warhol-like "15 minutes of fame", becoming large in part because the more dishonest and destructive their "anti-racist" maneuvers became, the more support they got from white middle-class liberals and "progressives" (coincidentally?). i mean, from many white social-democrats, those white anti-repression "experts", academic leftists, etc. Those types that subject us to those endless droning lectures about "the working class" (which they aren't in and don't get, of course). As a sage comrade of mine always says, "Like is drawn to like" even if their outward appearance is very different.

This is a more difficult, easy to slip and fall on, even dangerous way of seeing things than radicals here are used to.

[forgodsgoddamnsake]

Belly Dancer - 7

Warning: smut oral f/m receiving, language, angst(and fluff don't worry I don't wanna make you sad), mention of bullying, mention of anger issues and so on.

“Tell me a secret.” You said as you sat on the kitchen island in Harry’s white shirt.

He was cooking on the stove with his back to you, wearing a grey t-shirt.

“Hm, let me think about it.” He hummed, turned around to face you. “My father taught me how to use a gun when I was just twelve. Till now, never missed a shot.”

“Nah, that’s old news, tell me something I don’t know.”

“How is that old news?”

“It’s kinda obvious, you know?”

“No, I don’t, explain.” His eyebrows were furrowed.

“A guy at your age in that business, the way you were so confident using guns. That expertise with guns doesn’t come within two years of practice. It means that you’ve been around guns and weapons long enough. You never spoke of your dad at all, like he never existed, which also means that he had a hand in this.” You spoke, confidently.

“And you caught all that when we were firing the other day?” He asked, kind of surprised.

“Yes.”

“You’re bright, y/n.” He smiled. “Tell me a secret about you, too.” He said and you had to think about it as he turned off the stove.

“I got into a fight when I was younger, I kinda hurt the girl bad.”

“Oh, what happened?”

“I guess I had an anger issue. I’m not a person that you can get them angry easily, but once I’m angry, hell’s breaking loose. She was my friend and we were good until she started dressing differently and started ignoring me like we were never friends at all. One day we were in the same group and she made fun of my clothes in front of the whole class.” You bit your lip to hide the smirk. “I didn’t like criticism much, so I grabbed her and in the next second we were fighting and punching each other.”

“Are you happy that you did that?” He asked, noticing your smirk.

“I’d be lying if I said I am not. I am happy that I didn’t let her do that to me, no one is allowed to bully me or treat me like I’m nobody. To be honest, I like intimidating people. Since that fight, nobody at school had ever said anything to me that I didn’t like.” You looked him in the eyes and his smile widened.

Other guys might be intimidated by what you said, but he wasn’t. He appreciated that you were a person that didn’t let people walk all over her. It made him feel like he had a female version of himself.

 “I did that at elementary school as well, by the way. I scratched and pulled the hair of the bully in my school. She was a bitch that deserved to be scratched in the face. She told me I had bad hair, that I was ugly every damn day. I tried being a good girl till I just snapped, I couldn’t let her bring me down. Think I might still have this trait. Wouldn’t give it up, though, even it makes me appear like a violent person. People need to stay the fuck away from me if they ever think they can bully me and just walk away, fuck no.” You said, with zero regret.

He walked towards you, put his hands on either side of you on the kitchen island, gave you a big smirk.

“Badass, aren’t you?”

“I am, Gatsby.” You smiled as he gave you a peck on the lips.

“How about I give you another session so you can learn how to use guns properly?”

“I like the idea.”

--

You both stood in the same field that you stood in a month back with new green bottles on display for you to shoot. The weather was hot so pulling your hair up into a big bun was the best option. Harry was thinking that you might need to let your anger out on something that wouldn’t be hurt. He was damn right, the amount of anger you had was unbearable. The mixed-up feelings you had sometimes wouldn’t even let you concentrate on just one feeling, you were so angry at everything, no fear of anything, but on the other hand, there was this little girl inside you that was in a corner afraid of everything, defeated and so soft she could break.

Without realizing it, Harry was trying to help you and you felt that, but to you it seemed like he was trying to provide things to you, but you provided nothing. What could you give to a guy like Harry who already had everything?

Harry was trying to teach you how to shoot far targets, but you were failing terribly and he’d tease you with this. Until a car pulled over next to yours only for you to watch Michael get out of it with an expression you thought it was anger.

“Harry, minute please?” Michael asked as he looked you up and down. He didn’t like you.

“Okay, Harry I’ll be in the car, I have to call Sam anyways.” You said, excusing yourself. Harry nodded to you and put one of the guns in the wooden box as he said to Michael once they were all alone.

“What was that?”

“Bringing a girl to our field is okay by me, but what the fuck is it with you spending all your time with her? You didn’t show up, not even a call, you’re not answering your phone.” Michael said, trying to maintain his annoyance.

“Are we married or something? I’m having fun, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong, H. But this’s got to stop, we’re fucked, Harry, we’re in a hole, we need to get the deal out of Ray, you hear me?” Michael huffed.

Harry cracked his knuckles and rolled his eyes, “We’ll have to get another deal out of any other person we know.”

“No, H, that’s not possible, we specifically want Russian arms and Ray is the only one that can provide us the supplies in such short notice.”

“I tried, Mike. I called him, he was pissed that I kicked him out of the after-party. I’m not sucking his balls to get this deal, okay?”

“I know he’s a piece of shit, but we have to convince him. Let y/n give him the dance he asked for, women have charm.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Harry spat.

“What else do you have in mind? This happened in the first place because of her.”

“So, the only way to fix this is to give him what he wants? Her?”

“It’s not like she’ll sleep with him, it’s her job, H. Y/N is a dancer, all’s she going to do is dance.”

“I’m not doing that to her, hear me? Not on my watch.” Harry said.

“Fuck you, this bitch is getting you wrapped around her finger, what’s with that? Did she give you a good jerking off or something?”

“The fuck you said?”

“You heard me, Harry. This girl’s not for you, man. We have work to do and all you do is follow her around like a lost puppy.”

Harry took a step towards Michael; their foreheads were touching and their eyes were seeing red. They were whispering in a way of anger.

“Say shit like that one more time, Miky, I fucking dare you.”

“Yeah, sure you do, stuffing your face in her pussy was not enough and now you’re turning your back on your friend.”

“You call yourself a friend, you son of a bitch?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m the one taking all of the responsibility so you can go have fun with your little sluts.”

“Get out of my face before I break yours.” Harry said and pushed Michael away, walked towards the car where you sat. He didn’t speak through the whole drive and he pulled over at your apartment. And that was it for the day.

That same night and after you were done with your job, Michael’s face appeared next to your car.

--

It had been six months since you knew Harry. Michael would show up almost every night at the club to convince you with the offer. You had many dates with Harry, most of them were just you guys having fun. You made sure not to talk too much about yourself, you thought you already did talk too much.

What happened at the after-party was still lingering in your head because Michael wouldn't stop showing for it, you didn’t want to make Harry lose a deal because of you. You felt heavy at the idea, you were alone for a long time and having a man take care of you was not something you were used to at the time.

You were ready to perform for Ray at his place as Michael asked you.

A part of you wanted to do this to prove to yourself that no one could tell you what to do or save you, that you were good all by yourself, the other part wanted to do it so you get Harry the deal. You had to provide him with something.

Angela was preparing your suit for the private performance in the private room the host had provided for you. Your bodyguard was waiting in the hallway, that was your only condition to accept the offer. You decided to wear a blue suit for the performance; you got into the suit, put on your makeup, were ready to do something you didn’t want so you shake off the feeling of a man protecting you.

You didn’t want someone to protect you.

Every breath you took was heavy like a million stone pressing into your throat. It had been a long time since you did something you did not want.

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, and you saw that you weren’t happy about that whole thing.

Ray was sitting on a black armchair and the song had started as you asked Angela. You got out of the room and were ready for dancing the feeling off.

Angela saw the sadness lingering in your eyes, she’d been your assistant since the beginning so she noticed. Oh, she noticed the face of yours that was completely broken, yet expressionless. There was nothing she could do, she tried talking you out of it, but you only snapped at her. She sighed sadly as she watched you from the slightly open door.

That body suit was not too revealing, you chose one that covered most of you to get a little comfortable. Your waist drew a big circle, then you started dancing your body with no smile visible. Smiling was critical, but you couldn’t afford it so you danced with a poker face on.

However, you found your eyes tearing up, dancing with tears in your eyes, trying your best to not let them fall down your cheeks. The eyes of Ray were eating the sight of you which disgusted you even more. Disgusted by yourself, your body. You didn’t want to do this. Who could save you then?

Meanwhile, Harry was calling you and Angela answered as usual,

“Hello, Mr. Styles. Y/N is busy now.” She started, but he could hear the song playing in the background.

Harry knew that you were off the club that day, you did not tell him that you had any other performance as he was thinking of taking you out.

“Where exactly? I may drive y/n home.” He asked, confused.

She gave him the address and hung up. Angela completely ignored your order to not answer Harry’s calls. Angela felt that she had to step up and not let you do something that made you sad deeply. Michael was checking some guns out of a wooden box at one of Harry’s warehouses, then he looked at Harry to see him confused. Harry didn’t know why he was confused, “What’s wrong, H?” Mike asked inspecting a gun in his hand.

“Y/N is having a private performance she didn’t tell me about.” He looked at Mike, but Mike avoided any eye contact and that was something Harry noticed.

“Maybe she forgot.” Michael mumbled.

That look on Michael’s face is a liar’s look. They had been friends long enough, and Harry knew that he was lying.

“What do you know that I don’t, Michael?” Harry asked, rising from his chair. The warehouse was not lighted well, only a yellow light bulb. That deem light made Harry’s expression look a lot worse.

“Ugh, nothing.”

“You’re lying. What is it?”

“She asked me to give Ray the private performance he asked for, so we could get the deal we had to get which you blew. Satisfied?” Michael huffed looking to Harry.

“You made the girl I’m seeing perform behind my back!?” Harry yelled.

“She asked me not to tell, okay?”

“It is not, Mike, it is not okay.” Harry mumbled, seeing red.

He got out of the warehouse, jogging towards his car, followed by Michael who was calling his name to get him to slow down.

Meanwhile you were changing into your next suit, trying to suck in your tears.

--

In the garage where you kept your car, you were driving your legs to walk with Angela next to you, holding your bag. Harry’s figure appeared next to your car, leaning on it, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. You glared at Angela so she walked faster to open the trunk of the car.

"You owe me." You said bluntly with a poker face, walking to open your driver’s seat without even looking at him.

"Excuse me? I owe you?" He straightened up and raised his arms in confusion.

"Yes, you do. That shitty performance was for your own sake." You said, throwing your handbag inside violently.

He had to take a step towards you, "You did exactly what I told you not to do!" He yelled in your face.

"Hey! Don't raise your voice at me. I did this for your own sake." You slammed the car door, turning around to face him, raising your pointer at him.

"What sake was that? You think I care about some deal? No, darling, you did this all for your own sake. I won't fall for your shit!" His lips were curled upside down, like he was disgusted.

"Oh, really? Do you think I wanted to perform for that piece of shit? His eyes were practically undressing me every fucking second and I hated every second of it, Harry!" You yelled.

"And that is exactly why I told you not to perform, but you're too stubborn to listen. You had to make yourself appear like some independent girl, look where we are now! Because you're too fucking stubborn to listen to a fucking word I say!" He yelled back right in your face, but you gave him a sarcastic smile.

"So, this is my fault now? You asked me to be at that after-party where that shit asked me to perform!"

"It is your fault-"

"No, it fucking isn't-"

"It fucking is, y/n!"

"Stop yelling at me!"

"You stop yelling at me and listen for a change!"

"You started it!"

"Listen, all I asked was for you to not perform for him, but you fucked up everything I said and did what you wanted anyways. That is pure disrespect."

"Disrespect?!" You exclaimed.

None of you noticed that Angela was still standing by the car trunk, watching both of you yelling at each other.

"Yeah, y/n, disrespect. You went there and wore god knows what to show off your flesh for a guy that only wants to see what's underneath."

"I wore a suit, Harry, I wear them every day for god's sake!"

"You wear them on a stage, in front of an audience, you wear them at parties that you work at, not at somebody's house when he's the only audience." He yelled the last part.

"I did this for you." You whispered, looking to the ground.

"No, you fucking did not! You did this for yourself so you could say to yourself that no man could tell you what to do!"

"No, no, I did not." Your eyes teared a little. And you tried your best to not cry in front of anyone, but this was becoming too much for you to handle.

"Yeah, you did, you completely disrespected me. I cannot even look at you now." He ran his fingers in his hair, looking away.

"What do you wanna hear? That you were right? Yes, Harry, you fucking were right. I hated every second of it, I was literally crying. I did this because I could not bear the idea of someone protecting me!" You yelled the last sentence with your eyes full of tears. "And I wish I listened to you, I wish I could take it back and listen to what you said, but I can't. I can't reverse time and not do it. I only wanted to dance for you but I just couldn't let you protect me. I'm afraid, Harry, okay?" You sighed, a tear rolling on your cheek when he looked at you, his chest rising up and down.

"I'm afraid of every day I will suffer when you leave. I don't want to get used to you; I was fine before you came along. There will be nothing left of me if you break me like everyone else. I just can't give you the knife so you can kill me whenever you feel like it." You broke down and started crying, that was when he grabbed you to his chest to hug you, one arm around your neck.

You muffled through your tears. “I’m just afraid, Harry.”

He deepened the hug and kissed your temple before whispering in your ear, “I’m not leaving, y/n.”

“Yes, you are. Everybody leaves.”

“Not me, baby. Just please, listen to me, I don’t like being disrespected. I don’t want you to interfere with my work whatsoever, it’s no place for you. I know these people; you can’t be around them.” He said gently.

You sobbed a little and he pulled away a little to wipe off your tears with his fingers. He gave a kiss to your forehead and pulled you in his arms again.

“Awww.” Angela says, fingers intertwined. You both chuckled at her till Harry said, “I want you to go home, okay? I have some business to go through, then I’ll catch you there.”

“Okay, don’t be late, I cooked today.”

“Can’t wait to taste.” He said before giving you one last kiss on the forehead and leave.

You got into your car with Angela to drive her home. Angela cleared her throat as you were driving, “I’m sorry, y/n, I gave him the address.”

“It’s okay, Angela, sometimes we need people to step up for us.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No, honey, I’m not. I know that you just wanted to look out for me. I did a stupid thing, I didn’t even wanna do it, but I just did.” You huffed.

“Harry seems nice, he was really worried about you.” She said and you smiled at her words.

--

Harry pulled over by the warehouse, got out of the car with no expression, didn’t say hello to any of the guards as usual. He went in to find Michael sitting at his chair. Towers of boxes were filled inside the warehouse. Harry walked towards Michael and said without sitting, looking at Michael who raised his head to face Harry, “We’re done, Michael. I’ll have a word with the accountant so you can take all the money you put back, if you want arms instead that’s fine. I don’t want to see your face again.” Then Harry turned around to leave, but Michael’s voice stopped him.

“What? What’s that for? What did she tell you to make you turn against me?” Michael asked as Harry turned around once again.

“She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even mention your name. She took full responsibility of what she did, but I know better, Michael. I know you too much, I know that none of what you said was true.” Harry said lowly, yet angrily. “I know that she didn’t tell you not to tell me, I know that you must have convinced her to do that behind my back. Since that after-party she never not even for once mentioned that offer, and you wouldn’t shut up about it. You’re cunning, Michael, I’ll give you that.”

“And that’s why you’re leaving me behind? Harry, I’m your friend.”

“What kind of a friend are you, man? You know what? It’s not even about her at all, it’s about you going behind my back. You speak ill of the girl I like all the time; I suck it in and just give you the benefit of the doubt. But, no, Michael, not anymore.”

“We needed that deal, Harry, I had to do it.” Michael stood up.

“You got your deal. But you don’t have me anymore, we’re done.” Harry said and just left, leaving Michael back cursing himself.

Their friendship was perfect, they’d fuck girls, drink, do business, have each other’s back. No matter how much they fought, nothing led them to that point of no return. But Michael’s friendship was over to Harry, not because of you. If a friend could deceive another friend, then how could they trust one another?

Harry’s car was pulled over at your apartment, he rang the bell and you opened the door. You were in one of your cute pajamas, but once you opened the door and saw Harry’s face you had to open your arms for him. He went in your arms and hugged you tightly. He dug his face in the crook of your neck, trying to hold back his tears. You wrapped him tightly in your arms and rubbed his back gently, reassuring him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Harry.” You whispered in his ear and just stayed there for a while, the front door still open, in each other’s arms until Harry was moving his head and saw Jessica standing by her bedroom door, looking at you both.

“It’s been 5 minutes, aren’t you bored?” She commented and you had to chuckle. You both pulled away but kept his hand in yours.

“I didn’t know you were here; I wouldn’t have come.” He said, smirking at her.

“Y/N is a bad influence, isn’t she?” She said as she took a seat on the barstool.

Jessica was a redhead with lots of piercings and tattoos, she was taller than you and more muscular.

“Come on in, Gatsby, I’m making late dinner.” You said and led him in as you closed the front door behind him.

You let go of his hand and went right to the fridge to take out the food you had half-cooked earlier. You put the plates of the food on the island and jogged to your room and returned with a hairclip, you pulled your hair up with the hairclip. Then, you went to the fridge again to pour them both some juice.

“Wanna know the story behind the hairclip?” Jessica asked Harry with a big smirk on her face.

“Aren’t you a bitch?!” You exclaimed turning on the oven and put two pots on.

“Tell me.” Harry said as he sipped from his cup.

“Y/N was trying to cook me some food, what was the name of that dish, y/n?”

“It was an eastern dish, it consists of pasta, rice, fried onions, and lentil. It’s a hard dish to make.” You answered, going on with your cooking.

“Yeah, and she was going on with cooking till we smelled something burning, turns out she left her too long hair going around with her like a fucking Rapunzel.” Jessica said through her laughs and Harry’s eyes widened at you.

“My god, your hair burnt!?” He asked, looking at you.

“Just the tips I swear!” You said raising your middle finger at her. “I’ll get you, bitch.”

“Since that day she never turns on the stove without tying her hair up.”

“How did you guys meet?” Harry asked. You turned your head and looked at her, “Wanna tell him?”

She smiled at you, “We had a fight at one of the clubs. We were auditioning I looked her up and down, she looked like pick-me girl.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t. I minded my own business till you made that little comment of yours!”

“Tell me!” Harry laughed, “I’d like to know the whole story.”

“Okay, okay, y/n was flicking her hair all the time like she was the only girl on earth or something. She looked different; you know? I told her that there was some gum stuck in her hair.” Harry burst into laughing as you and Jessica laughed along yet she continued, “She got all riled up and kept looking for that gum till she missed the audition.”

“Oh my god, then what?” He asked through his laughs.

“She waited for me outside and was determined to pull my hair off.”

“Sounds like y/n.”

“Then when we were fighting, some guy held me in an inappropriate way, she yelled at him ‘Don’t touch her, pig’” Jessica laughed as she imitated you. “She kicked him in the nuts for me. Then we sat on the sidewalk, talking and became friends since then.”

“I’d never change a thing about it, Jess. I love you.” You said and then turned around and walked to the kitchen island facing both of them.

“Jessica had my back when everybody turned their backs on me. She lent me money, got me the job at the club, got me to stay with her when I had nowhere else to go.”

“We sound so gay.” She said and you both laughed and high-fived each other.

Harry looked at both of you and felt sad a little when he remembered Michael.

“Where’s the food, y/n? I gotta go soon.” She said and you turned to the stove again to finish your cooking.

“Okay, Jess, put the food in the plates, I gotta go to the bathroom.” You said and walked to the bathroom. Jessica nodded at you and stood to turn off the stove.

“You like her, just Harry?” She asked Harry, taking him off his thoughts.

“Yeah, I do, very much actually.”

“Y/N is a good girl, she has her bad moments, but she’s a really good friend. I have to tell you something really quick before she comes back, though I think she’ll be late. She takes her phone with her to scroll on.” She smirked and he chuckled. “Y/N may act tough, she’s tough but she needs someone to protect her from herself. She told me that a while back when she was drunk at yours she had a bad dream. That happens a lot, her family messed her up, she has zero contact with any of them, she’s only got me and now you. She doesn’t let people into her life that much so I need you to promise me that if you ever feel like you don’t want to be with her, just tell her the truth.”

“I want to be with her-“

“I’m just saying, I don’t wanna see my best friend like that. Just please, promise me that if you wanna let her go, let her go slowly. Don’t break her heart anymore than it already is. I love that bitch, she’s a person you can always lean on. She told me all about that fucker from her country, she loved him, listened to him, got him gifts, told him all words of affirmation, and he threw her like trash. I can’t let that happen before my eyes.”

“I promise I really want her, I have no intention of breaking her heart. She’s-“ He got cut off by your voice, “Who’re you two talking about?”

“No one, I was just telling him about the time when you were two and ran naked around the house.” Jessica said as she filled the plates with food.

“What’s that?” Harry asked pointing at his plate.

“Shut up and eat.” You said getting yourselves forks and spoons.

You started eating but soon Jessica got a phone call.

“I have to go, y/n.” She said, stuffing her mouth with food.

“Tell your boyfriend to fuck himself for me, please.” You said and she raised her middle finger and grabbed her purse and went to open the front door as she turned around.

“I don’t want you both doing stupid shit, as long as you’re under my roof, you live by my rules. Bye.” She said as she went out and closed the door behind her. You chuckled and looked over to Harry who was next to you, didn’t touch his food.

“Is there something bothering you, or you just don’t like my food?” You asked before putting the full spoon into your mouth.

“I had a talk with Mike.” He said lowly, playing with his food.

“What kind of a talk?”

“I ended our friendship.”

“What?” You let go of your spoon, giving him your full attention.

“I had to.”

“No, Harry, there’s nothing that could end that friendship of yours.”

“He made you perform for Ray, y/n!”

“He didn’t make me do shit, I agreed, this is my decision. You didn’t punish me for it, why punish him?”

“Because he knows better than to do such thing behind my back.”

“Michael loves you, Harry. He wanted to save your business with this deal, I told him not to tell you, I told him to stay out of it. He cares for you, baby, he didn’t want to do things behind your back. He made a mistake just like me, don’t punish him too hard.”

“He knows better, y/n.” He said with sadness all over his voice.

“Harry, you’re punishing him and you. Think of all the times he had your back, he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“You damn should, he loves you like a brother.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

Harry sighed and grabbed the spoon to his mouth and his eyes widened, “What is that? It’s so good.”

“It’s a secret.” You winked.

--

You both laid on your bed, Harry’s head on your lap as you played with his hair, you were reading a book and he was scrolling on his phone. You huffed and snatched the phone from his hand.

“Hey! What’s that for?”

“I want you to take my virginity.” You said with straight face.

“What?” He straightened up to face you.

“You heard me.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you wanna give it up before marriage?”

“I think it’s time for me to let it go.”

“Why me, then?”

You brushed his hair with your fingers, “Because I like you, Harry. You mean so much to me now. You’re nice, gentle, and you take care of me. You treat me so good like I’m the only girl on earth. I want to give something so precious to a guy that’s become so precious to me.”

He smiled and cupped your face, “I can’t, I can’t take something that important from you.”

“I want you to, Harry. I didn’t wanna give it up to some guy that would leave me the next day. Ugh, I don’t know what’ll happen between us, and maybe it’s too soon. But before we do anything, I have to ask. Are we actually dating or what? We’ve never talked about it; we’ve been going out for about five months now.”

He thought about it for a moment, you had been going on dates for quite a while, but you never talked about where you were standing.

“I think we’ve went on dates more than a dozen times, so I think yeah, we are dating, y/n.” He answered, truthfully.

“Do you wanna?” You winked and he sighed.

“I can’t, I want you to have it the special way you deserve. You deserve to give it in the most special way possible.” He said as he caressed your cheek softly. “But I really need you to give me a blowjob before little Harry explode.” He grinned and you burst into laughing.

You cupped his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss, the kiss was emotional and so sweet. He got his tongue into your mouth and you followed. He bit your bottom lip a little and got you right under him as he was caressing your hips and waist.

He pulled away from the kiss only to lick on your neck. He kissed and licked your sweet spot as your moans got louder by the touch. He was right between your legs so you felt him getting harder above you. You craved touching him so your hands crawled under his t-shirt to strip him. Once he took of his shirt, he unbuttoned your pajama blouse to see you in a beautiful lace grey bra.

“I love every little detail of you, y/n.” He whispered as he walked the tip of his finger on the stretch marks on your breasts.

You hummed and cupped his dick through his jeans and you got a moan out of him. He took your bra off and threw it somewhere.

“I like you better this way.” He grinned and squeezed both breasts in his hands and put one nipple into his mouth to lick. Gave the same attention to the other nipple and they got harder and he felt an urge to twist them a little. He did and you gasped.

You felt shy dirty-talking so you stuck to the moaning. His hands were caressing your whole body as he was kissing his way down to the hem of your pants. He looked into your eyes and took off your pants and played with your pussy with his finger so slowly it killed you.

“Stop teasing me!” You whined.

“You do that all the time, now’s my turn.” He said on your pussy.

He grabbed the hem of your panties in between his teeth and took it off completely with your help, of course. He spread your legs and dove right in, licking on your clit gently as his hands crawled up to your breasts to squeeze them. You arched your back as you felt his tongue enter you slowly, your hands were deep in his hair tugging at it.

He twisted your nipples between his fingers as his tongue was moving from fucking you to drawing circles on your clit.

“You like that, princess?” He whispered and you couldn’t hear him clearly so he got no answer from you, only moans.

He pulled his tongue away and looked into your eyes and twisted your nipples just a little harder and you gasped.

“I said, you like that?” He repeated and you nodded. “Words, princess.”

“Yes, Harry, yes, I love it, please. Give me your tongue again, I’m so close, plea-“ You ended your sentence with a loud moan as he grabbed your clit between his lips to kiss and lick.

 “Harry, I’m gonna cum, I’m go-“ You were interrupted by the hard orgasm that hit you. You tugged on his hair harder and arched your back so hard. You pushed him a little from you as you were cumming and it made him smirk as he was watching your body shake under his touch.

“Fuck, that was so sexy.” His smirk grew wider as you pulled him up to kiss him deeply, violently.

You turned him over so you could be on top, You felt bold.

“I want you to cum in my mouth.” You whispered in his ear before kissing his neck. “Can I give you a love bite?” You asked and he only chuckled.

“You can do whatever you want, Rapunzel. I’m all yours.”

God, those nicknames did you good.

You gave him a couple of love-bites on his neck and near his shoulder-blade, you loved that he was not a silent guy in bed. Harry gave you all the moans you needed to figure that he was enjoying your touches. You kissed his neck one last time before using your two central teeth and tongue to make your way down on his body.

“Fuck, that’s new.” He moaned before helping him take his pants and boxers off, then he collected your hair with his two hands and had it in one fist.

You winked at him, “Not gonna tease you this time.”

“You better not to or I swea-Oh fuck!” He was interrupted as you put him in your mouth to stop him from talking. You felt his pre-cum on your tongue as you tried taking more of him without gagging. You put as much as you could down your throat until you gagged, kept him in there a little.

“Fuck, yes, you’re so good to me, princess.” He moaned pulling on your hair a little harder. Pulling your hair only made him harder.

You pushed him in and out of your mouth a little and got it out completely with a pop. He was trying to keep his eyes on you to appreciate the sight of you taking him in. You started licking his cock from the side as you were jerking him off with one hand. The other hand was gently massaging his balls.

You moaned while he was in your mouth and that sent him over the edge.

“Princess, I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop, don’t, don’t.” His moans were getting louder as you began pushing him in and out faster.

You felt his cum fill your mouth, but you didn’t stop until he was finished. You pulled him out of your mouth with his cum on your tongue. You looked at him, still in between his legs by his cock, you opened your mouth so he could see his cum on your tongue. He grabbed your bottom lip and bit his own.

“I wish I could take a picture; fuck you look incredibly sexy.” He groaned and you nodded. “What? Want me to take a picture?” He asked and you nodded again.

“Are you sure?” Again, he asked and you nodded.

He pulled your phone that was on the nightstand and you pressed your finger on it so it would unlock. He turned on the camera and took a picture.

He put the phone down.

“Swallow.” He ordered.

And you swallowed.

--

The picture was you, your eyes not in the scene. Your mouth open, cum all over your tongue, Harry’s finger pulling down your bottom lip, a strand of your hair was in sight.

[pluckyredhead]

Since we are FINALLY getting a new Green Arrow comic next week, I wanted to talk about my favorite GA story in a very long time: “Earn It Back” by Dave Wielgosz and Mike Norton, which was part of last year’s DC’s Saved By the Belle Reve anthology. I picked up this comic because the solicit mentioned Super Sons and Gotham Academy stories, but the solicit, cover, and variant cover gave zero indication that there would be any GA content at all, let alone maybe the best Ollie + baby Roy story...ever??? (Side note: this is why I am Comics Georg. If you read EVERYTHING, you will eventually find treasure.)

The story takes place “years ago,” when Roy is in 8th grade. (For non-Americans, that means 13 or 14, depending on when exactly in the year it is. Roy’s birthday is in November so he’s probably 14 here.)

It starts with Ollie being called in to Roy’s school to speak to the vice principal, and oh man, Ollie is a disaster here:

There is so much to love already:

1. Mike Norton’s art! I always enjoy his work so much. Take it as given that for every page I am loving the art, so I won’t keep saying it. (Also this is a tiny detail but colorist Steve Wands picked just the perfect shade of green for Ollie’s shirt.)

2. “He’s not an idiot.” Already Ollie is in a defensive panic and absolutely flailing. It’s worth noting that Ollie has always and will always be someone who says the very first thought that comes to mind, and this is before he lost all his money and grew a social conscience so he is using thoughtless, offense language. But also, as will be made explicit by the end of the story, Ollie is not someone who did well academically. When Ollie uses the word “idiot,” he means himself. Roy himself once said Ollie is both proud and ashamed that Roy is so much like him and the fact that Roy phrased it that way makes my heart hurt, but it’s probably more accurate to say: Ollie recognizes that Roy is very like him and it worries him because he is intimately familiar with his own faults.

3. This story sits pretty completely within pre-Flashpoint continuity and characterization - it doesn’t match Roy’s New 52 or Rebirth backstories at all. And as a pre-Flashpoint fan, I do love that. But one thing that emerges from the mess of contradictory versions of Roy’s backstory in the New 52 is that it’s really easy to headcanon that version of him - eternally bored in school, miles ahead of the class and unable to sit still, eventually seeking solace in acting out and substance abuse - as neurodivergent, potentially ADHD. And this story also hints at those tendencies, which there is zero indication of in pre-Flashpoint. I just think it does a great job gracefully combining multiple characterizations of Roy so that no one’s is “wrong.”

Ollie: “Hey Barry. you’re a fucking nerd, right?” Barry: “...Yes. 😔”

ANYWAY LOOK HOW MUCH OLLIE LOVES ROY!!! HE THINKS ROY IS AMAZING!!

My single solitary issue with this story is that it posits that Bruce is someone it would be logical to turn to for parenting advice, but I guess this early on, before Dick started butting heads with him - let alone before Jason showed up - both Bruce and Ollie could be dumb enough to think he was.

I will never get over how cute Roy’s little face is when he’s talking about shooting Wally. I kiss him! I pinch his cheeks!

Weeks go by. Roy’s grades improve, but he’s miserable:

Truly Mike Norton is just drawing my headcanons at this point. Yes, that is what Ollie’s house looks like. Yes, that is how he dresses. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Look how mad the Titans are! Look at Garth stomping off! This is so cute, I’m dying.

Again, BRUCE IS NOT A MODEL PARENT. He’s so condescending here, too. AT LEAST OLLIE'S KIDS ALL MAKE IT OUT OF ADOLESCENCE ALIVE, BRUCE.

(The Dinah cameo is interesting, since she and Ollie don’t interact. It makes this story tricky to place in any prior continuity, since pre-Crisis she didn’t join the League until after Ollie had already grown his beard. I guess this could be the post-Crisis continuity established by JLA: Year One, because Ollie is clean-shaven in that book, which has the pleasing implication that she is a veteran founding member here and Bruce and Ollie are rookies.)

Anyway, it’s the VP calling to let Ollie know that Roy has been cutting school:

BABY IS ANGRY. Baby also has impeccable aim (of course), because oh man, telling Ollie he’s a tyrant and a fake and flaky is one THOUSAND percent hitting him where it hurts. “You gave up on me” oh BOY the abandonment issues started early.

Other things I love: how incredibly daddish Ollie sounds in the “Keep going, Roy” line. Also, “Being his friend didn’t work.” DAVE WIELGOSZ IS ALSO JUST WRITING MY HEADCANONS!!! I have said for literally decades at this point that Ollie’s early parenting style was permissive to a fault because Roy is his buddy! His pal! His little fella!

Like I said at the beginning, Ollie’s panicked “He’s not an idiot!” was not about Roy, it was about Ollie. He doesn’t want to see Roy make the same mistakes he did. (He should probably have told Roy about contraceptives then, but...) (Actually he did tell Roy not to get Donna pregnant in Teen Titans: Year One, but probably he should have been clearer about the means.)

Panel three makes me want to sob. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MU-HU-HUCH. (Ollie and Roy, I mean. Not Ollie and Vice Principal Parks.)

P.S. The posters on Roy’s wall! What a nerd!

😭😭😭

This is such a complicated little emotional beat and I love it. Roy has been so angry at Ollie but his immediate uncomfortable forgiveness and the way Ollie recognizes it for what it is is so good. (Also of course Robert went along with it, Robert Queen was trash.)

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER! OLLIE THINKS ROY IS THE GREATEST PERSON ALIVE! ROY SHOWS HIS FORGIVENESS BY ROASTING HIS OLD MAN!

(We don’t need to discuss the part where I’m pretty sure Roy never finished high school. It’s a happy ending for now, okay?)

Anyway, I love this story very very much and just wanted to gush about it. if the new GA book is anywhere close to this high quality, I will be very happy indeed.